


Presque Vu

by thetoneofsurprise



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Memory Loss, F/F, Memory Loss, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 75,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetoneofsurprise/pseuds/thetoneofsurprise
Summary: Suffering from severe career burnout, Beca’s Mom convinces her to journey back home to Portland for some overdue recovery time. Reluctant but obliging, Beca stays home for the holidays. But going back to where you grew up means going back to all the things you left behind, no matter how much things have changed… or how much might have been forgotten.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload to an unfinished fic that I'll be continuing work on. The original post was taken down for a number of reasons, but I've decided to continue it.
> 
> Originally based off a post by captainpeachperfect on Tumblr, it has since evolved into a slow burn, multichapter fic. Proofed originally by Tumblr user i-am-a-crepe with a few of edits myself.
> 
> TW: As this is an Amnesia!AU, there may include descriptions of a graphic nature as the story progresses further.

If you had told Beca Mitchell five years ago that she would be back in her hometown of Portland, she would have laughed at you. Not only would she have laughed, she would have quipped "No way, dude," before shoving her headphones back on to her ears and returning to her computer. But a lot can change in five years. A lot can change in a year, in fact; a poor year for the label, a clusterfuck scandal and the over-hanging doom of losing your job. It had been a spiral since New Year, Beca thought, cascading into creativity block and the sudden apparent lack of a personal life that had caught her in a drift to come back. 

Realistically it was her Mom's idea. After her doctor signed her off work and forced her to have the remainder of the year as a rest break, a late night (somewhat drunken) phone call to her Mom had been enough to persuade her back, however reluctantly.

_"The label hasn't produced any good music for the last, what? Nine months? Mickey has totally fucked our reputation over with this damn Carlie Kietel thing and I've not made a mix worth listening to in weeks. I'm exhausted all the time, my sleeping schedule has gone to shit--"_

_"Why don't you come home?"_

_"What?"_

_"I didn't get to see you last Christmas, or the year before, and if you're not working until after the New Year... why don't you come home for some family time. A little R-and-R."_

_"Mom--"_

_"Come on, Beca! I'm an old lady now. Before long I'm going to be in a retirement home looking like Norma Bates and unable to remember what my only daughter looks like."_

_"Okay, first; I don't know who that is. Second; we both know you're going to be a criminal on the run before you allow yourself to get put in a retirement home. And thirdly; you're not old."_

_"Well you know what they say, fifty-five is the new forty... Just have a break, Beca. Come home for the holidays. If you want to go back to LA early then you can. Just know I love you and I want you to be okay. Although you will have to sleep on the couch, I've turned your room into my webcam room."_

_"Mom!"_

_"I'm kidding! Sort of."_

_"I'm hanging up before you over-share anymore unnecessary information."_

_"Just think about it, okay? The visiting thing, not the webcam thing."_

_"Okay bye, Mom."_

_"Love you, sweetie!"_

Her keys turned off the engine, clattering as she pulled them from the slot and slipped the metal loop over her finger. Driving back had been weird. The drive in had daylight slipping away slowly, the area as she neared both familiar and unfamiliar. New buildings in places there had been open land, renovations to old, run-down convenience stores. Downtown was only a stone's throw away but Beca wondered how much that had changed too. She tapped her phone where it rested in it's dashboard holder and checked the time; eight-thirty. She'd made decent time, even with a stopover and the odd pit stop. Reaching over, Beca pulled her bag from the footwell of the passenger seat before exiting her car. She clicked the button on her keys, locking the car.

The air outside was noticeably cooler. Cooler than LA, even cooler than inside her car. It crawled up spine and across her shoulders, shivering at the temperature drop as she gazed at the house in front of her; panelled grey with white accents and a driveway, all visible against the fading light of the evening sky. It was nothing particularly special but it was something that held familiarity to her - a trait she had been finding it increasingly difficult to settle on recently. 

Taking a deep breath in she pressed forward with trepidation, bag over her shoulder as she made her way up the pathway. Pushing against the door, she found it unlocked, and opened it the rest of the way into the hallway. It wasn't silent inside and orange light glowed across the floorboards. She could hear the tinny chatter of voices in the living space off to her far left coming from the TV set which gave pause to the settled air of an empty house, but it also smelt of cooking and her stomach grumbled.

"Mom?" she called out, letting her voice carry across the house and reverberate off the walls. Dropping her keys into the bowl on the hallway mantle with a clink, she heard a small squeal, followed by the shuffle of feet on the hardwood floor.

There were only a handful of people a similar height to Beca (disregarding children and wiry old ladies like Mrs. Bakanowski three doors down, who she was hoping was still alive... morbid), but her mother was one of those few exceptions. Bobbed hair greying at the roots but still retaining a surprising amount of colour, her mom's face peeked out first as she rounded the archway joining the hallway to the main living space, wearing a beaming smile as she approached her daughter before wrapping her in a tight hug. God, even her mother was an inch or so taller. But it was a comfortable height; Beca didn't have to tip-toe to see over the top of her shoulder as she awkwardly returned the gesture, squeezing her in a one-armed hug as she held her bag at her side.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you came!" her Mom said, voice muffled behind her until she pulled away from the hug and moved hands down her arms until they stopped just above the elbow, holding her daughter in front of her at arms length, dark eyes flitting over her that caused Beca's shoulders to rise involuntarily, "Every time I see you, you never get any taller."

"Ha-ha," Beca replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, letting her shoulders relax and the breath she had been holding leave through her nose.

"Oh, lucky for me, I guess. How was the drive?"

"Long... quiet. Pretty sure I've filled my sitting quota for the next three months, though," Beca flurried her free hand outwards in gesture before raising it to rake a hand through her hair.

Her Mom followed the hand that had rested on Beca's static arm down and squeezed her daughter's hand with a smile, "Come on; I've saved you some leftovers and there's some Jack in the cupboard if you need a drink after your trip."

"Giving your daughter alcohol? Are you sure that's wise? We don't want you getting caught being a bad influence now, do we?"

Kathy laughed, making her way through the living room and into the kitchen, "Oh, please. I would hope my own LA hot-shot daughter knows what she's getting herself into when a certain Mr. Daniels comes to visit--"

"Ohmygod, _Mom,"_ Beca uttered, following her into the kitchen, "I've been here three seconds and already the weird, vaguely euphemistic comments are out?"

As she walked through the doorway, a large front window stood to her left - now curtained and closed, but otherwise acting as the main source of light in the morning - with the living area stretching into the kitchen area on her right. A sizeable couch sits in front of a coffee table in front of a fireplace, with a good size television mounted above it. A counter bar divides most of the kitchen off from the room, which her mother is now hiding behind as she flits about the cooking space, pointing a remote at a smaller TV mounted in a wall space so that the noise coming from it quietened before pulling drawers and cupboards open. Behind all this sat bay doors, ready to open out into the garden.

The room snakes around to a small alcove that might usually hold a dining area for any larger family had they owned the house, but this one just barely holds her Mom's grand piano. It's pressed against the wall as far it will go, straining dents into the plaster on the wall. Beca knows it's dented; she was the one that started the cracks by tapping her foot against the leg of the piano constantly, even when she wasn't playing. Beca dropped her bag onto the bar once she'd made the approach.

"It's my job to embarrass my only daughter -- that's any mother's job. That's what I had you for, anyway," she pops up from behind the counter, red oven mitts on as she grasped a plate that was covered in several slices of pizza and a good serving of fries, setting it down in front of Beca. She set a hand under her arm, pulling it free from the glove before grabbing cutlery from the side, handing it over, and retreating to the refrigerator to retrieve some condements. Ketchup was always the go-to for Beca.

"Thanks, now my life's purpose has been revealed to me I feel... ethereal. Lightweight. Complete. Which has nothing to do with the fact I'm ready to eat some real fucking food," she replied, nodding in appreciation to her mother for plating her up some food, adding a small mumble, "thanks for keeping it hot."

Her mother shrugged in response, waving her gloved hand like it's no big deal, "After how much I got accosted for it being cold when you were at high school?! Of course I did."

Immediately Beca scooped up a piece; it was simple pepperoni but with the home-added tradition of green peppers and olives. Biting into it, she near groaned at the taste, the mixture of excellence that graced her tongue and the realisation she hadn't eaten anything since that morning; not through lack of trying - Beca had a stop in Sacramento for gas but neglected to get anything to eat because she simply hadn't fancied it. It wasn't as if she was spending copious amounts of energy by driving.

Her Mom motioned for a drink and Beca nodded to forgo attempting to speak with a mouthful of food. It wasn't as though she'd been living off takeout for the last few years; she'd made a conscious effort to try and cook for herself whilst she was living in LA to prove to her parents that she could fend for herself, but what started out well dissolved into nothing further than coffee for breakfast and pasta for dinner. And admittedly the occasional takeout.

Kathy placed a small glass in front of her daughter, letting it clink on the counter top as it held a swell of whiskey covering ice.

"Have you decided how long you'll stay for?" her Mom asked.

It was a simple question, Beca knew it was, but the dread that hit the pit of her stomach was unmistakable. She gave a sharp in take of breath through her nose and held it, a weight settling across her shoulders that barely lifted as she exhaled. She didn't move her eyes, fixed on the plate of food in front of her. "No," she replied, popping a small pinch of fries into her mouth in an attempt to stop her mother getting another reply out of her too soon.

Her mother watched her wipe her hands on her jeans, pulling her to reach for a napkin from the nearest cupboard and handing it over, "Well, you know you're welcome as long as you like. It would be nice for you to stay at least until the New Year--" Beca goes to speak but her Mom continues regardless, holding a hand up for her to stay silent, "--and I know it's a few months away, and the idea of staying with your old Mom for more than three weeks fills you with anxiety at being subject to any kind of potential extended family or childhood interactions, but your health is important, Beca. You need a break from all this drama; it's affecting your job, your creativity, your already stellar mood and I'm sure it's affecting your social life, too."

"Or lack thereof," Beca added quickly, taking a sip of her drink and letting the whiskey roll down her throat.

"And, no offence, you kind of look like shit. I'm worried about you."

"Thanks," she said bluntly in response, more bite behind the word than she initially intended but letting it hang in the air nonetheless. She shifted her weight to the other foot.

"Well--,"

"If I knew my own mother was going to shoot down my self-esteem I wouldn't have bothered coming. I got enough of that at work."

"Beca, come on... you know it comes from a different place."

"Yeah, well... you still said I look like shit."

"Empathetically. I know what you're going through," her Mom added softly.

Beca hummed unconvinced, taking another bite of food as the older woman gave her a look that simply said '_you know better_'. A silence hung over them for several minutes, the TV screen flitting between images at Beca's peripheral. 

She hadn't properly mulled over why she had decided to come home. The idea of a break away was more appealing than the idea of coming home specifically, but she could have gone anywhere if she wanted to completely escape; abroad, cross country. Her Mom had made a good point that Beca had not been home in nearly two years, work life swamping her and causing all sense of time to get drowned alongside. The phone call had made her feel enough guilt that it left her feeling heavier than before their conversation. Beca guessed it was familiarity she was longing for the most; the safety. She had lost the sense of belonging she had initially felt in LA, everything suddenly collapsing in on each other as one problem shifted to another and another, leaving no time to stand and catch your footing. She needed pause and something recognisable, not the frantic and unexpected thing her life had developed in to.

"Lucky for you I have until January fifth to sort my shit out," she said, finishing another mouthful of food, "Or at least, the rest of the label does. Dax says he'll have it under control now that Mickey is back, but we'll see."

"If anything, they owe you a damn holiday," Kathy said, near tutting and raising her brows, the distaste for the whole situation clearly showing.

Beca couldn't help but smirk a little. There was a small feeling of self-satisfaction at seeing her own Mom pissed on her behalf.

* * *

The rest of the evening had rolled in quietly, shadows deepening across the ground outside and the air only getting chiller. Pizza long since devoured and another whiskey later, Beca had pulled the rest of her bags from the trunk of her car and hauled them up the flight of stairs towards her bedroom. She had neglected the help of her Mom, insisting she leave her to it and rest during her Saturday evening, Beca ready to retire to her bed. Her suitcase sat at a halt outside her room, the bag from her car wrapped around the handle, and a back pack over one shoulder, Beca turned the knob of the door and pushed it open.

The curtains were open, letting moonlight spill through the window adjacent to her for a brief moment before she flicked the light on. The room glowed, purple accent colours cooling the tone. The air inside was still, the room the same as it was once she left for college. Beca had managed to pack her life into the two bags she held currently, leaving anything she hadn't deemed necessary behind. Her only baggage had been her clothes, her laptop and her music equipment. 

She wheeled her suitcase inside and dropped her backpack onto the bed, letting it bounce on the covers. Her socks padded across the carpet, footsteps quiet as she wandered over to the desk on the other side of the room, an empty space that once held all her music technology. Her Mom had cleaned. The room lacked the typical layer of dust associated with lack of use. 

The table top was clean, pen pot situated in the corner it had been left in, alongside an empty picture frame and a desk lamp the other side. Beca picked up the black frame, glass flickering a reflection of the ceiling light as it moved, and rubbed a thumb over the corner. She flipped it over, the stand hitting the squared-off backboard as it swung in it's hinge. _Senior Year_ was scrawled in Beca's handwriting on it, the Sharpie having barely faded since she'd used it. The picture inside, and one other that used to hang in the hallway, were the only two that Beca had pressed between the screen and keys of her laptop when she moved. They'd been the only things that gave her any motivation on her shittier days, knowing she had something to prove and that someone was rooting for her even from the other side of the country. But the photo from this frame in particular still sat in a box underneath her bed in her apartment in LA. She'd never bothered to unpack it, letting hide in the back of her mind whilst she blundered on and tried to make her way into the music industry. 

She exhaled, nostrils flaring as she pressed her lips together and set the frame down softly, turning back to her bags and began to unpack. Her stomach was heavy, the mixture of pizza and alcohol not sitting well with her, Beca thought. 

Clothes soon got tucked away into drawers, the mixer that had been stuffed amongst fabric now sat on the desk alongside the laptop from her backpack, Beca finally flopped onto the bed with a sigh. She had undressed, switching into a pair of shorts and white t-shirt, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail to keep irritating strands out of her face. 

The thought dawned on her that this was her chance to finally... breathe. She'd been on constant for the past few months, never having a spare day to herself and whatever free time she did have involved sleeping. The stress had been dominating, bearing over her like a shadow that she couldn't shake and there was no light around to cast it away. No matter how sunny LA had been, it had made no difference. Her confidence had taken a beating, the walls she had let decay at work had been restructured and her mood sucked. Back home with her Mom... she was at square one. And Beca didn't know if it was a kick in the teeth or a refreshing opportunity.

Beca reached for her bag on the floor, searching inside past her keys and cigarettes to get to her phone before retrieving it and rolling back onto her bed. She pressed the lock button. Two unread messages, both from Dax.

_Don't worry, ur apartment is still v much there and not on fire. Check-in duty done for the w/e._

_Have a good time at ur Mom's. I'll text u if there's any news._

** _Reassuring. Thanks, D. If Mickey's an ass, don't be afraid to tell him to do one. He's the one that fucked us over after all._**

Beca let the clicking of the keyboard buttons pass through the phone's speaker as she typed. Dax was already doing her a favor by helping her have so much time off but the added help of looking after her apartment whilst she was away just gave her one less thing to worry about. She hit send and flicked to her e-mails. There was nothing of interest; the odd newsletter, adverts from stores she'd shopped with online, some doctor in New York advertising for penis enlargements. 

She blinked heavily, eyes rolling behind eyelids, and Beca left her phone and leaned over to the bedside table. Flicking the small light off and sinking the room into darkness, she turned back to her bed to see her phone screen emit a light glow into the room with a _ding_. She grabbed it, climbed under the covers and clicked it on again. A reply from Dax.

_Eat ur heart out, Carlie Kietel. U ain't the special one no more._

She huffed out a small chuckle in response, letting her fingers hover over the keys before thinking better of it. She opened up her music playlists, tapping the one that read _Sleep_ and letting noise trickle quietly through the phone. Beca could never sleep with the silence. She set her phone down on the end table beside her and settled herself down. It was the first night in years she'd turned off her five a.m. alarm, and Beca hoped as she stilled that she'd get a good lie-in that morning. She fucking deserved one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me on tumblr [here](https://mitchellsbeca.tumblr.com/).


	2. ii

Much to Beca's displeasure, she was wide awake by seven a.m.

She'd jolted awake, panic hitting her as she was half asleep, her sluggish brain telling her she was late for work. Eyes searching about the room as she grasped her bearings, Beca clocked where she was and groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow. 

She reached over, palming for her phone and squinting as the dim glow reached her eyes. The screen burned the early hour into her eyes, but Beca was paying more attention to her notifications. 

No messages. Good.

She supposed she'd had an extra two hours sleep than she was used to, which was better than nothing. Heavy lids closed shut of their own accord, still covered in lethargy and grasping at sleep. It was a battle Beca had every morning, once she had finally managed to sleep, and one she knew how to win. This morning, however, she retreated her efforts.

Her mind working less frantically and her heartbeat settling to an acceptable pace, Beca noticed that the morning air was not humid. The coolness trickled through her nose and chilled all the way to the back of her skull. She wasn't used to having cool mornings so quickly into the autumn - even during winter it was still warm in Los Angeles by usual standards - but the morning had a similar chill to it that she'd felt last night upon her arrival. It was one she only ever associated with her Mom.

_For the first time in fucking ages, you don't have to get up, _she thought.

Beca curled up, tucking her knees to her chest and pulling the covers to her chin and let her eyes stay shut. She let herself savor the warmth blanketed around her, breathing in slow and heavy. The sheets were washed, the scent of fresh linen getting pulled into her senses.

She didn't know how long she'd been there for, breathing rhythmically back and forth as she rested. She'd forgotten what it had felt like to take time to herself, to stop rushing around for the benefit of others just because it was what she was paid to do. The moment was spent quietly, Beca falling comfortably into the back seat of her mind as her body lied still. 

She considered what to do when she got up. Her usual coffee and smoke first, without a doubt, a shower to freshen her from sleep and the car journey yesterday, but after that she had no idea. There were few people left in Portland that she still knew; her grandparents being the only real example. She wondered how many people from her high school had stayed in Portland all these years. Not that she was ever really friends with anyone from high school, except...

Beca stretched suddenly, an attempt to free her mind from wandering too distant and resolving finally that she would not be able to fall back into sleep no matter how much she tried. Rolling out of bed, Beca yawned and walked to the drawers, pulling out an over-sized sweater that just covered her sleep shorts. She rummaged through her bag, grabbed her packet of smokes and made her way downstairs. Beca re-positioned her hair into a loose bun and pulled at her sleeves to cover her hands and trap the warmth inside her clothes. She was suddenly thankful she had slept with her socks on, feet reaching the cold ground floor.

She traipsed into the kitchen, the view of her mother sat at the bar welcoming her, dressed in a similarly over-sized cardigan to subdue the morning chill. She had a steaming mug of what could only be coffee with the smell of the machine hitting her nose, and the morning newspaper in front of her. The bay doors were wide open, early sunrise pouring into the house that caught specs of dust in it's sun rays.

"Mornin'," Beca mumbled, rubbing sleep away from her eye as she made her way to the coffee machine.

"Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

Beca shrugged, pulling a mug from the bottom shelf and setting it down - the benefit of being in the house of someone a similar height to you means nothing is too far out of reach. "I'm up at seven, what do you think?"

"Carpe diem, Becs," her Mom replied, raising a brow at her in gentle jest.

Resting her smokes on the counter and pouring herself a drink, Beca grunted in response, "I'd really love to carpe some freaking sleep instead, thanks."

Kathy let silence hang between them as her daughter took a sip of coffee, exhaling happily through her nose as the liquid poured over her toungue, hot and sharp, as she moved to lean against the counter opposite.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"A smoke," she mumbled.

"Not that I condone that type of rebellious behavior first thing in the morning--"

Beca shook her head quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of it. They'd had their conversation about her smoking the other Christmas; naturally her mother disagreed but Beca only argued it was caused by the stress of her job. Not a complete lie, but peer pressure played into the bad habit as well. 

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry yet, but I'll get some later. I need a shower more than anything," she finished with a shrug. Coffee was good enough for now. The thought of food no longer made her hungry, didn't make her stomach grumble. She used to eat like an overworked jock in college, eating any bit of food she came across, but now it had trickled out into one meal a day with snacks as an accompaniment. She never had the time anymore.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life, Beca."

"That's what makes you the cooler parent," she said with a nod and a simple raise of her mug.

"Anyway, when you decide what you want for food, you can go out and buy some groceries for us."

"I thought you just said you weren't going to tell me what to do?" Beca retorted, one brow rising.

"Only when it's of mutual benefit," her Mom replied, flicking over a page of her paper.

"Awesome. Well then, sure. Whatever. Write me a list? I'll go later," Beca crossed to the other counter, grabbing her cigarettes and walking out the open bay doors with her coffee in hand. 

There was a small garden table and two chairs outside, far enough away from the open doors that smoke wouldn't fly into the house and her mother would complain, but close enough to hear her if she spoke. She set down her coffee mug and took a seat, perching on the end to avoid letting her legs hit cold metal frame. Flipping open the lid of the packet, she slid out a smoke, along with her lighter, and proceeded to light it.

"I'd say there's no rush, but I feel like you need an excuse to leave the house and interact with other people today," she heard her Mom's voice echo from inside.

Beca inhaled before expelling smoke that climbed into the rays of the morning sun, "I was looking forward to staying in all day. I'm a hermit, I like the indoors. And just because I have to work with people all the time doesn't mean I like them."

"Well, as your mother I feel obligated to encourage you to go outside your comfort zone for the betterment of your health."

"Being back home is outside of my comfort zone," Beca grumbled, cigarette stuck between her lips as she spoke.

It was the honest truth. Although she felt comfortable and familiar with it all, she couldn't help but shake the feeling of something bearing down on her, like someone was watching her every move around the house. She knew her Mom was looking out for her, and though that was probably all that it was, Beca could feel a particular type of uncertainty swell in her stomach that got slightly more intense each hour. Like there was an elephant in the room she'd missed completely. She pulled a drag from her cigarette and removed it, blowing smoke and raking nails across her scalp to follow her hair. Beca took another drink of coffee.

"I have a two lessons booked today, so if you want to make yourself scarce to avoid any children, then some time before ten would be the time to do so," her Mom said, appearing at the frame of the bay doors as she folded the newspaper. 

Beca gave a quick thumbs up, acknowledging her mother and leaning back into her chair.

"But have a damn shower first; I don't want anyone seeing my LA hot shot daughter looking like a freaking hobo and giving me a bad reputation," Kathy said finally, turning back into the house and dropping the paper onto the counter with a slap.

"Extortion of your only daughter for social escalation is very bad parenting!" Beca called after her, lips edging into the small traces of a smile.

* * *

Showered, dried and clothed, Beca had quickly made her exit from the house shortly before one of her Mom's piano students arrived, jumping into her car and making her way to the nearby grocery store on the outskirts downtown.

The journey over was familiar, bar the few new houses and stores that had popped up, but the traffic was heavy for an early Saturday morning. She sat comfortably in her seat, radio blaring, sunglasses pearched on her nose and she let the late morning warmth seep in. As cold as it was in stark comparison to LA, Beca was kind of thankful for the change. It was the fresh kind of cold that her Grandma always said blew the cobwebs away.

The fresh air and lack of pressure to perform was comfortable, though the stress still knotted tightly in Beca's shoulders. It made her stiff, always moving jerkily and never feeling completely relaxed. She wanted to totally unwind but she knew as soon as she did something would likely happen at work to cause it to flare up again. 

She pulled into the parking lot, winding her hand around the steering wheel as she turned a corner and searched for a space. She managed to find one halfway across from the store, wheeling into it and killing the engine and the sound that had trickled from the radio. She pulled her phone from the passenger seat and stuffed it into her jeans pocket, along with the list her Mom had made of things to buy. Opening the door she stepped out, pressing it closed behind her with a slam harder than intended and making her way out from between the cars.

But it's after she's hit the lock button on her keys and started to walk away when Beca finally spots it; a hum of orange, glowing in the cold winter sunlight. It halts her abruptly still, heart stammering and steps faltering. A color she knows well; she had got so familiar with it their senior year of high school, used to the soft floral scent as loose curls bounced about her shoulders. "Ohmygod," she blurted as a hushed whisper, a sudden rush for air pulling itself to her lungs, "Chloe."

The memories of their first and last encounters forced their way simultaneously to the forefront of her mind. The divorce caused the move. She had chosen to leave with her Mom, to start a new life and a new school in Portland, of all places. It was her first day. Her 'New Starter Buddy' of junior year had been Chloe, much to her displeasure, but--... The last had been a painful goodbye before Beca's Mom drove her to Georgia for college. The phone calls and texts had been frequent to start with but they trickled out, slowly halting to a stop. Beca had noticed.

"_Chloe!_" The sound falls from the tiny woman like a shot. Beca doesn't know what she's doing until it's too late and her blood runs cold. If it wasn't pounding through her ears she would have sworn that the sound echoed about the parking lot.

The woman turns, one hand on the door to the trunk, ready to press it shut after resting her groceries inside. Beca notices her coat is too small in the sleeves, her wrists exposed and bare as the familiar ladybug tattoo rested near cartilage. The skin on Beca's own forearm burned hot, but she ignores the sensation, waiting as patiently as she could for a reply.

Chloe's face is blank, a tiny crease appearing in her brows as one slipped ever so slightly higher than the other. She spotted Beca, the only other person in the parking lot, and quickly assumed the sound must have come from the small woman. She hesitated before pushing the door shut and turned to face the brunette properly, "Do I know you?"

Beca could have sworn she saw a flicker of something in those crystal blues. The blank look on her face pulled Beca forwards in response, legs unstuck from the place on the tarmac she had been rooted to. The corner of her mouth lifted in a loose smile, "It's me. It's Beca."

The name draws no recognition onto Chloe's face. Instead confusion lays itself bare. It was soft, like Chloe's expressions always had been, but it was plainly there. The silence gets held between them for a few beats before the redhead disturbs it. "I'm... really sorry, I don't think I know anyone called Beca," she says, one arm flying slightly outwards in gesture of almost a half shrug. She passed her car keys to the other hand before turning and making her way to the driver's door. 

She's hurrying. Why is she hurrying? Doesn't she want to talk to her? Does she feel guilty? Of all the possibilities Beca could think of, that one was the only one that stuck out as entirely plausible. Was she doing that thing that Beca always heard her colleagues talking about; avoiding contact with someone you went to high school with because 'it's embarrassing and you've both changed so much and you checked their Facebook profile a few weeks ago and they've actually turned out kind of weird'?

Beca pressed forwards a few steps, expression serious as the smirk fell immediately, "Mitchell. From high school. Junior year?"

Chloe had already unlocked her door and pulled it open. She stops just before she makes headway to get into the car, eyes looking Beca up and down as she peered over the car door. She scoffs, smiles slightly like what Beca said was funny and it makes the brunette's stomach lurch upwards. She must recognize her now. "I can't really remember much from high school," she says gently, ever so slightly quieter than the rest of their conversation but still with the small smile on her face. 

Beca doesn't move, doesn't speak, which prompts Chloe to quickly add, "Look, I really have to go, but I'll see you around?" The redhead nods, her expression reading sympathetic now more than anything else before she gets in the car. 

There's several beats before the ignition engages in the vehicle opposite but Beca does not notice. Her mouth hangs open, loose in shock. She only retreats to let the reversing car pass, driving out of the parking lot in a cloud of exhaust. It's now that Beca realizes that the feeling in her chest was her lungs screaming for air, constricting inside her rib cage and grasping at any bit of oxygen they could grasp. 

"What the fuck?" she breathed finally. She ran a hand through her hair, letting it rest briefly at the top of her hear before she turned between the space where the redhead's car had been in park and the exit of the lot. 

In all honesty, Beca was not sure what she had expected when she had seen Chloe. The syrup-shaded hair and thrown her composure off kilter, the name escaping her lips like a pup escaping without a leash, but Beca had not expected... that. 

When they had first fallen out of touch, the brunette had spent a lot of time being bitter; bitter at Chloe for not getting back to her texts, bitter for discovering her phone had been disconnected after multiple attempts at reaching out, and the frustration of having to be stuck states away in a college she didn't even desire to be in. The detachment from Chloe had made her angry, restless and hungry for a change, regardless of how dramatic it might have been. It had been the final push in getting her to LA, the catalyst to her success that she did not realize until several months ago, back at the beginning of her creativity block. She had come to the conclusion she owed Chloe a lot. She always has done, but...

Beca dropped her arm to her side, stuck to the parking lot as if the floor was still fresh hot tar. She was not sure how long she was there for but it wasn't until the toot of a horn behind her made her jump out of her skin, pulling her feet from the floor. She raised her hand in apology, looking over the driver who was shaking his head at her. She would have given him the finger if she wasn't so confused.

The car drove past and she swallowed hard, throat dry and scratchy. Beca began to make her way towards the grocery store, one quarter of her mind concentrating on what she needed to get, but the other three quarters trying to dissect what had just happened.


	3. iii

She had been on autopilot since the store. She'd picked up what food had been requested on the list, plus a bit extra for good measure, but her pace did not pick up until she was nearly done. She had a sort of mindless wander where the space was familiar and it could be easily navigated but there was no purpose to any footsteps. In all honesty, she had found herself halfway across the store with no food in her basket and no solid recollection of how she'd managed to pass so many things without it triggering her memory of what to pick up.

Beca was not sure quite what had happened. It had all happened so quickly, Chloe's name falling from her mouth when she would naturally have no intention in speaking to her. Why would she? She had been the one to break off all contact with her. Beca had never considered their paths to cross again, but she knew in the back of her mind she'd made the decision back when wounds were fresh that she'd never approach Chloe again. But she couldn't help but shake the feeling it had been a false hope.

Impulse took over, though. It had been like trying to catch smoke, curling through whatever shit excuse of a filter Beca possessed before she knew it, by which time it was far too late to grasp the words back.

Groceries in arms, Beca walked back into the house, awkwardly throwing her keys onto the mantle before heading into the kitchen and setting down the bags. Her mom was tucked into the corner, clearing up the piano space after her lessons, when she spotted Beca shuffling over.

"Oh thanks, honey," she said as she went over to help unpack, "Did you find everything okay?"

Beca nodded, beginning to pull items from the grocery bags and set them on the counter for her mom to put away, "Yeah."

"Good," her mom nodded before falling into a small silence. The air settled between them a little uncomfortably, but Beca didn't notice. She was staring off ahead of her, not paying attention to what she was pulling out of the bags as she set the items down slowly. 

Her mind was miles away, replaying the memory like a broken record, needle slipping between the creases and catching back on itself. The shade of Chloe's hair was the same, her icy blue eyes that were so surprisingly warm despite their color, and the way she carried herself so easily was the same, but there was... something else. And it made her skin itch and Beca couldn't place what it was.

"_Beca_,"

Beca looked up and hummed in response.

"Oh, there she is. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine..." Beca pauses before scratching at her forehead with her thumb, looking back at the groceries, "I saw Chloe at the store."

"Chloe...?"

"Beale. The redhead from high school?"

"That Chloe! Oh yes; how's she doing?" her mom says, something lacing her voice but Beca couldn't make out what it was. She looked up at her mother and frowned, brows knotted tightly together, splitting a small crease between them. Kathy was still tidying away the shopping.

Beca stopped what she was doing, "What do you mean?"

"Well I mean since the accident; it was pretty terrible from what I read in the papers. But you probably know more about it than I do," Kathy said with a wave of her hand.

Her stomach twisted, muscles freezing still as she stood at the counter. She balked at her mom's nonchalance and felt like her chest might collapse if she didn't react quickly. “What accident?” Beca asked.

Kathy faltered in a moment that felt as though it lasted hours.

"What accident, Mom?" she near shouted, the tightness against her ribs barreling outwards with force.

Her Mom looks up, slightly shocked at the volume that came from her daughter but not unfamiliar with it. She set down the packet she held onto the counter, "the car accident, Beca."

And the air in the house shifted.

Beca couldn't work out if it was the pressure suddenly bearing down on her shoulders or the isolated noise of her pounding heart that made her also register the switch in atmosphere. Something rippled in her stomach. "What the fuck?" she scoffed with an almost laugh, "Seriously, Mom; what the fuck? My best friend gets into an accident and you wait until _now_ to tell me?!"

"I thought you knew--"

"Oh, clearly, but you didn't think to tell me when it happened?!"

"It was your first year of college, Beca; you both spoke constantly, and it's not like you made an effort to answer phone calls from me _or_ your dad."

"Ohmygod, it was five years ago? _And_ you're blaming me for this?!" Beca exasperates, moving from one side of the counter and towards the other side of the room in an attempt to remove herself from her mom's bearing presence, "this is ridiculous."

"By the time I found out it was Chloe, she was out of the hospital already. I thought you had found out one way or another because you never brought it up in conversation."

"Only because of my complete and total lack of awareness that it had happened _at all_! And surprise, surprise, we fell out of contact in my first year of college. Go figure," she snaps back, turning out of the living room and into the hallway. Beca grabs her keys from the bowl and made her way to the door.

Her mom followed her to the archway, "Beca, I'm sorry I didn't tell you but you can't blame me for tryin--"

"Don't bother; it's too fucking late," she pushed on the handle and opened the door.

"Where are you going?"

"For a fucking drive," she shot, walking through the door and slamming it behind her.

* * *

Beca had not really paid attention to where it was she was going; she just knew she needed to get out of the house. Her temperature had flared, hairs at the back of her neck standing to attention as her mother had talked, her skin crawling against the fabric of her jacket which she'd torn off as soon as she'd driven away. But she'd ended up in the place she'd least expected. 

Driving from such a young age made Portland easy to navigate. She'd explored most of the city in the first year that she'd moved, seeking out those quiet, secret areas people rarely traveled to so she could make them her own. It also most pissed off her Mom; staying out late without any knowledge of where she was - the typical things any rebellious teenager did to annoy their parents. It appeared Beca was still in the habit of it, but it was less to worry her Mom and more just to get away.

Council Crest Park was one of the few fairly well known places that were a favorite of Beca's. Though it got fairly busy in the summer when the weather was warm and comfortable, this time of year when the chill set in the park got less busy. The Sunday afternoon was no exception. There was only one other car in the parking lot when she had pulled up, setting her vehicle to a stop and letting the engine silence. Beca didn't really remember how she'd achieved her destination; she was too busy trying to rid her stomach of that sickly layer of uncertainty and the heat of anger that still poured itself over her shoulders and across her chest.

Thumping her head back against the head rest, Beca squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened with tension. She wanted the seat to swallow her whole, to take her into some black hole void where nothing mattered and instead she nothing.

But it didn't. And the only thing she felt was her pounding headache and the twitchy feeling that her seat was gradually getting lowered onto a box of needles.

Opening her eyes she let out a heavy breath before raking both her hands through her hair, letting them rest against the back of her neck. She rested her elbows on the steering wheel, bending forward and tucking her head between her arms. Beca couldn’t pin what she was feeling but she knew it was a mixture; resentment towards her Mom for not being told earlier and all participating parties for not _trying_ hard enough to contact her, a kind of surreal disbelief that anything could have happened to Chloe other than her simply continuing with her own life peacefully, an unsettling, crawling chill down her spine in the knowledge something so bad could have happened to the redhead, and the sense of something tugging deep at her chest that made her feel sick when she thought about just how _mad_ she'd been at Chloe the few days after they'd stopped talking. Everything felt like it was swimming through her simultaneously, all at once, every feeling behind overwhelmed by the next and made the brunette gasp for air.

Beca fumbled for the door handle and thrust the door open. She tumbled out, dragging herself into the cool air that tingled her lungs as she inhaled, trying to let the freshness soak in and wash away the jittering feeling inside her, shaking her hands free of it.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about Chloe since freshman year. Beca had thought about her when she'd moved, digging through boxes in her new apartment and finding their old photo in the stash of things from her college desk. She was still hurt even then, so stuffed it back into the box and kicked it under her bed where it still remained.

She'd thought about Chloe when the first track she recorded vocals for was released. It was only back-up but Beca had hoped secretly it would be enough to make a small message appear on her phone after it went national; '_hey beca! sorry I haven't texted you like in three years. that's you on the new capital cities track, right?! I could totes recognize that voice anywhere! you sound amazing - txt soon :) x_"

There were countless other times that Beca couldn't remember, pushing each instance over the last few years to the corners of her mind where they were left to disintegrate.

Calming herself, she sat on the hood of her car which overlooked the Portland skyline, Mount Rainer painted onto the horizon like an old movie backdrop. Beca felt like gravity had shifted, still pulling her to the center of the Earth but like a tectonic plate had moved, quaking the ground and made some kind of axis shift. She was struggling to find anything real.

Pulling her legs to her chest, Beca dragged her hands over her knees and down her calves, letting the chilled air cool the anxious heat that still burned across her chest. Fingers twitching, she reached for the packet of smokes in her trouser pocket, lighting one as quickly as the breeze would allow and taking a long drag in an attempt to calm and ground herself. 

It was fair to say Beca had no idea what to do next. She just knew she wanted to be out of the house for as long as possible, avoiding the claustrophobic space of her room until her nerves settled and her heart stopped pounding.


	4. iv

Beca drove back later that Sunday night. She'd watched the skyline get dark, city lights glowing an orange haze across the horizon as the stars did their best to peak out under the pollution. She took the extra time to drive the long way round as she approached the house, an uneasiness settling in her stomach that felt like guilt, shame and embarrassment churned together. 

When she arrived home the building was dark, and Beca had to let herself in with the spare key (which was still, thankfully, where it had always been; underneath the doormat on the front porch). She was just glad she wouldn't have to shimmy up the drain pipe next to her bedroom window to be able to get back in, unlike the few instances back during high school.

Once in her room, Beca pulled off her jeans and had climbed quickly into bed, pulling the comforter over her head. She had known that even decent sleep would be a fruitless task and had made few attempts at distracting herself; checking her phone, plugging in her headphones and listening to some solid beats as loudly as she could manage to drown out her busy thoughts. She wasn't sure how long it was until she did manage sleep, but when she woke the next morning, Beca knew it wasn't enough.

* * *

Beca had fallen into a rhythm the following week; sleeping late, waking earlier than she ever wanted, very little said between her and her Mom with afternoons left to herself which she spent several hours staring at her laptop screen and producing nothing musical whatsoever. She often ended up getting lost on YouTube videos, hoping anything of worth might pop up and give her inspiration for something new but it always failed.

But after burning through her Mom's stash of coffee (and shit, did she drink a lot more coffee than she realized when she wasn't surrounded by shops on every corner), and stewing inside the house for longer than was socially acceptable (despite her Mom giving her a key to ‘_actually leave. Whenever she liked,_’), she was forced to get out of the house for longer than a cigarette break at a time.

Beca had set up inside a Starbucks in Downtown, tucked into a corner with her laptop. She was completely aware of how many stereotypes she was filling right now; iPhone and coffee in front of her, MacBook on her lap and Beats over her ears, not to mention her dress sense (the signature ripped jeans, low cut vest and dark, loose jacket). She kind of stuck out like a sore thumb; most people in the coffee house were moms with their kids talking to other moms with their kids, or old couples having a rest break for the afternoon. It was too early for any kids to be around, school not breaking for another few hours, so other than the people working here, she was probably the youngest person around.

LA had rubbed off on her a lot more than she would have liked. She'd got the Beats as a present from one of the artists as a gesture of thanks for helping to produce their album, so it's not like Beca was _completely_ buying into the lifestyle of an LA capitalist drone but she wasn't doing anything to offset it. Plus she kept getting funny looks from one of the baristas.

Not far from working, Beca had been trailing through e-mails for the past half an hour. She was still CC'd into the mail list for the studio so the backlog of messages that she'd been ignoring had piled up since the working week was back on track. Dax seemed to be doing a pretty sound job of contributing to the label while she was away, and Mickey was at least attempting to sort himself out - not that he could take back the drama he'd caused.

Although now her attention had wandered to a different tab, Google blank white and staring her in the face. It was something she hadn't thought to do, still recovering from finding out exactly what had happened to Chloe, but Beca had soon realized she wanted more details. She leaned over and placed the laptop on the table, re-positioning herself and getting comfortable. Resting her arm on her knee and her head in her hand, Beca propped herself up, still staring at screen in front of her.

She had no clue where to start. Typing in something like 'Portland crash 2012' might supply her with something but it was unlikely. As frequent as car accidents were, there would have been countless during that year. All Beca could remember is that she didn't hear anything from Chloe after... That New Year, so her only real lead was to look for articles from January, but then who is to say Chloe was even in Portland? She could have been somewhere else. At a friend's new year's party in another part of Oregon.

And there was a niggling sense in the back of her head as though it was all too private. Her Mom hadn't know herself exactly what happened, let alone that it was Chloe, so news hadn't been too fast to travel around the city otherwise her Mom would have definitely known about it. Just something pressing against the thoughts in the brunette's head made her question if it was the right thing to do or not. It would feel like an invasion of privacy, almost, and Beca didn't want to do anything to ruin the sense of trust she still felt when she thought about the redhead.

A hand waved in front of her face, startling her straight as it dragged her back to the present world. 

Beca looked up to find the perpetrator; her immediate guess of that dodgy barista with the funny looks couldn't have been more wrong, and the whole view in front of her caught her off guard.

Chloe stood in front of her, angelic as ever, curled hair sitting comfortably on her shoulders as she smiled. The sound blasting into Beca's ears only elevated the situation, making her take notice of the warm autumnal colors of the coffee house with it's deep green accent that complimented the view so well. 

Chloe was talking. What was she saying? Beca remembered her headphones suddenly, removing them and resting them on her shoulders, "S-Sorry. What did you say?"

The redhead smiled again, chuckling lightly as she started again, "Beca, right?"

Beca nodded, unable to give a verbal answer as the words got stuck in her throat.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you--"

"No! No... you're not. I was just..." Beca stumbled over herself too quickly, gesturing to her laptop before taking a heavy breath, correcting herself with finality, "You're not."

"I just wanted to apologize about the other week - at the grocery store? I’m sorry I was so rude; I was in a rush to get back home and I was driving the car back so I was already super nervous. It totally wasn't just because I had ice-cream defrosting in the trunk of my car, I promise," Chloe jested.

Chloe said it as if Beca wouldn't have remembered, like it was some small, insignificant event in her day, only to be overtaken by something more important. Beca broke into a smirk, if you could call it that. It was more like the start of a smile pulling itself onto her lips, parting slightly and the corners of her mouth upturned, not quite believing the situation she found herself in. "It's cool, honestly. I would have totally bailed if it was someone I knew at high school as well, so I don't blame you."

"I must be special, then?" Chloe smiled. 

Honestly it seemed like she never stopped but she could always make it fresh and new every time she grinned again. Beca let the comment hang in the air like a heavy weight. If she wasn't totally oblivious, still processing surprise and anxious excited, she'd say Chloe was waiting for a come back.

The redhead gestured behind her, "I don't want to distract you from your work so I'd better go..."

"Oh, no, I'm not really--... I'm not working. Well, I am, I do have a job, I'm just... taking a well-deserved break right now," the brunette fumbled. God, what was she doing? She hadn't been this awkward talking to anyone since she'd settled into the label. 

"Where do you work, if you don't mind me asking? I'm guessing it's not local otherwise we would have run into each other before," Chloe asked, staying rooted and continuing the conversation.

Beca hesitated, pulling the Beats over her head and setting them by her laptop, "I work in LA, actually. For a record label."

"Really?!"

The brunette chuckled, the corner of her mouth hiking upwards again in a smile and her nervousness evaporating with each of Chloe's words, each one of them just as interested as the last. "Yeah," she added.

"That's so cool; I'm a music teacher! Well, I'm a part time TA, but I teach singing as well. But I've always wanted to go to LA, though; it's so nice there. Why are you in Portland? I can't imagine it's because of the weather," Chloe said, palming her coffee to her other hand and taking a sip.

It was a simple question but the whole thing threw her off. It was a weird sensation, to understand that Chloe should know exactly why she was in Portland again, but the redhead just... didn't. Beca had heard about false memories before, how someone's consciousness creates some twisted form of the truth and how it can happen randomly, but there wasn't anything quite like possessing an essence of doubt over your own and what you believed to be true. It was like when you recalled a specific detail from a conversation you had months ago with your Mom, and you're shocked that she doesn't remember, just because you recall it like it was yesterday. Except this time there was less annoyance and more confusion, more sympathy.

She was also glad that Chloe had not let her unfortunate circumstance impede what she had always wanted to do. Her chest grew congested as she heard about Chloe's job, knowing she had always wanted to teach and the satisfaction of finally learning she'd achieved what she wanted. Knowing Chloe, she probably walked old people's dogs in the park on weekends and volunteered at a hospital or a homeless shelter, too.

Beca watched her as she perched on the edge of the armchair opposite, setting her bag at her feet, clearly bored of standing and politely waiting for a response. Maybe Chloe could see the thoughts passing behind her eyes and was giving her time to adjust, but nevertheless she was watching her eagerly. "My Mom, actually," Beca said, scratching at her brow as she looked down before closing the lid of her laptop, "she lives in Richmond, so I'm visiting her for an extended holiday."

"That's sweet," Chloe said and Beca replied with a tight-lipped smile. "Are you staying long?"

"I don't know. Maybe until Hallowe'en but I kind of have stuff to get back to in LA; shit to sort out. You don't want to hear about that, though," Beca brushed off.

Chloe shrugged, "You wouldn't be eager to get back if it wasn't interesting."

"More like a huge pain in my ass, honestly. But I don't want to bore you with the details."

"I can make time," the redhead quickly replied.

Beca sat, slack-jawed and unable to hide the bewildered look on her face as she couldn't help but smile lightly in response to her comment. She watched the girl in front of her, took notice of how she sat, how she held herself. Beca couldn't tell if it was different than what she remembered. The brunette shook her head suddenly and apologized for staring, "Sorry. This is just... kind of weird for me. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but I know I'm not." 

"It's okay, I totally get it. I'm kind of used to it, honestly. A couple other people I know have done the same thing but it's fine. It's kind of an elephant in the room scenario so it's understandable. Makes the conversations more interesting, though, right?" Chloe nodded with a beaming smile.

Her unflinching optimism hadn't changed. Beca almost wanted to roll her eyes at Chloe if she hadn't been unfamiliar with the whole situation.

Chloe spared a glance at the watch on her wrist. "It was really lovely to meet you properly, Beca, but I have a very important, very serious work meeting I need to go to because some of us aren't so lucky to be on break today."

"Oh, no, totally. Do what you have to do," Beca replied, waving her hand and trying to play nonchalance whilst her stomach dropped to the floor at the thought of Chloe leaving.

"Maybe we'll cross paths again?" the redhead asked hopefully, eyebrows raised slightly and eyes glistening.

Beca nodded a sure and waved a loose farewell as Chloe made her way to the door. The whole movement kind of happened in slow motion, Chloe's fiery curls falling over her shoulder as she turned, heeled boots hitting the linoleum floor as she tread away and the sickening sense in her stomach that this could be the last time she saw Chloe again.

The sensation that powered through her was as if someone had pushed her from behind. Beca dived into her laptop bag, scrambling past a notebook and odd bits of paper to grab her business card holder. Pulling one out, she grabbed a pen from the same pocket and made way for the door of the coffee shop.

"Chloe, hey!" Beca called after the redhead who was halfway out the door.

Upon hearing her name, Chloe turned and Beca saw the bewildered smile that hit her eyes when she spotted the brunette making her way over to her, dodging past tables and chairs. The door closed behind her, midday sun casting light against her back that made Chloe's hair seem like a burning halo.

"Look, uh... I used to have your old number but it's not worked in years, so here's mine. If you wanna, like, meet up again, or whatever," Beca started, writing down her cell number onto the front of her business card awkwardly, setting it in her palm and scribbling down before handing it over and pointing, "That's my work number but I don't have my work phone with me; the other one is my personal number, so call that one. But only if you want to."

Their fingers grazed as Chloe took the card. Beca briefly thought her heart stopped.

"A business card? This is all very official, ‘Beca Mitchell’. I guess you are who you say you are," she teased, looking at the job title on the card.

"Sure. I'm not some kind of weird, redhead-crazed creep who's attempting to hit on you or something, so don't worry," Beca replied, almost immediately recoiling at what she just said.

"You're not? I can't say I'm not disappointed. But thank you; I'll keep it somewhere safe."

"Awesome."

"I'll see you later, then," Chloe nodded, phrasing it so it wasn't quite a question and not quite a statement. She pulled the door open again and made her way outside as Beca gave another final and polite farewell. 

Turning on her heel, Beca made her way back to her seat, unable to keep the small smile off her face. Dropping back into the armchair, she exhaled quickly, letting her nerves settle and the shake in her hands calm down. Adrenaline still pounded through her but it slowed considerably. Grabbing her phone, she clicked the screen on. Not so surprisingly, she had several notifications from various apps that needed none of her attention whatsoever. There was one message notification, however, that caught her eye.

Emily, affectionately nicknamed Legacy in her phone contacts, was Beca's first demo artist she worked with at the label and their song was a hit. They'd met briefly at the club Beca used to DJ at once she first moved to LA, and since then the rest was history. Beca slid the notification open, her messages popping into full view on the screen.

_**Legacy (11:36am):**  
Hey Becs! Noticed you weren't at the studio this week & Dax said you've taken some holiday to visit your Mom? You definitely deserve the rest after what happened. Not sure if you know but there's been a lot of talk of people leaving -- just wanted to tell you I'm behind you all the way no matter what you decide to do :) Have a great time at your Mom's. If there's anything I can do let me know :) x_

She wasn't completely shocked by the news. Ever since the drama there had been whispers about the studio when Mickey wasn't around that they'd bail. In fact, plenty of people had said flat out to Beca that if she hadn't done as much as she had to beat the backlash, a lot of employees would have left. Maybe her break was the catalyst for people finally cutting their loses and running. She wasn't sure how to feel if that were true. But Legacy's message cemented the smile on her face, softening it a little as she read the text.

_Thanks, Legacy, that means a lot. I'll let you know if anything comes up. Just stay out of trouble for now, since I'm not there to keep an eye on you. And just let Dax think he's in charge until I get back._

Beca shot the message off quickly before opening another from the thread of messages with her Mom. 

** _Beca (2:43pm):_  
** _Chinese tonight? Peace offering? It's on me if that makes it more appealing._

She hit send and had nearly set her phone down before it buzzed again.

_**Mom (2:45pm):**  
Just less than week? Must be a new personal best. Chow mein, veggie dumplings and egg-fried rice please. And since you're my favorite daughter, can you get it from the one on the edge of Downtown? xxx_

** _Beca (2:45pm):_ ** _  
_ _I'm your only daughter._

_ **Mom (2:45pm): ** _  
_Exactly xxx_


	5. v

"But other than that, it was totally fine. Principal Baxter just wanted to make sure I was comfortable with the hours and work load they've given me," Chloe finished, forking another small mouthful of pasta before she plated up the rest.

Aubrey sat opposite, typing her notes from class. She nodded in approval, "Good. I told you he wasn't going to fire you."

"I can't help but worry, okay?" Chloe said with a laugh, making her way over to the table with two bowls and setting them down. She didn't stay, heading towards her bag in the hallway before coming back with it. This was their habit; coming home from a long day of work, Chloe attempting to make something for dinner unless Aubrey stepped in, and both of them finishing notes or marking books. It had been Aubrey's idea to get as much work finished before their days off and it always played out this way.

Chloe pulled her planner from her bag before sitting down to start her food. "How was your gym class today?" she asked.

The woman opposite shrugged, eyes not leaving her screen, "Fine. Although that Simpson kid is absolutely testing my nerve. He refuses to listen to any instructions whatsoever and is a complete menace."

"He's never a problem for me."

Aubrey looked up at her, "Because everyone loves you, Chloe. And he also has a huge teen crush on you, just like the rest of the student body. You need to quit being such a charmer."

The redhead shook her head, curls swaying back and forth as she finished her mouthful, "Not going to happen, Bree. Plus, it rubs off on you too much. You love it."

"I'll let you believe that," Aubrey grabbed her bowl and thanked for Chloe for the food.

They sat in comfortable silence for a short while, the tapping of keys switching to cutlery and then back again, enjoying their food and concentrating on freeing up time for their weekend ahead. 

Chloe flicked her planner open for the work week, post-its and penned notes spread across the pages. It had become her Holy Grail, the easiest way to remember little things since her memory had not quite recovered properly; from small things like laundry days and if she's paid her bills or not, to meetings and upcoming classes she needed to prep for.

Beca's card slid from between the paper and onto the table. Aubrey picked up the movement but Chloe was too busy eating to notice it fall out. 

Aubrey raised a brow and read the card, breaking the silence suddenly, "Who the heck is Beca Mitchell and why do you have their number?"

The redhead looked up, playfulness twinkling in her eyes as she watched Aubrey take the card from the table before she looked back to her notes and shrugged, much like her roommate had done when asked about her day, responding nonchalantly, "Just some cute girl I met in Starbucks today."

"And she just _gave_ you her number? And business card?!" Bree flipped it over, inspecting it.

"What can I say? I still got it," Chloe wiggled her shoulders, "but apparently she knows me from high school, which is surprising since she's nothing like anyone else I can remember from high school so I'd be surprised if we hung out."

"What do you mean?"

"She's, like... all punk, you know? Edge-y. Alternative. She seems like the kind of person in high school who hated everyone and just gave death glares all day," Chloe squinted slightly, emphasizing her adjectives. Most of the people they both knew were just... kind of typical small town-ers.

"Who works in LA?"

Unless Aubrey knew all of California's area codes by heart from the crossed out number then there's no way she could have known Beca worked in LA. Chloe looked up from her planner in suspicious surprise. "How do you--..." she stopped mid-sentence, seeing her roommate scowling at the screen of her laptop. Realization set in, "Ohmygod, did you Google her?!"

"If some punk troublemaker turns up out of the blue one day claiming she knows you from high school, it is my obligation as the best friend to make sure she's legitimate and not some kind of... crazy crack addict or something."

"Bree..."

"Chlo, I have your best interests at heart, okay? Besides, if she is who she says she is then it'll be pretty easy to find dirt on her to make sure she's telling the truth."

"You've missed your calling, Aubrey Posen. You should be working for the FBI; you'd find criminals in a heartbeat."

Aubrey hummed, "Well you know what my Dad says about trying things and failing..." She continued squinting at her computer screen, eyes flitting from side to side as she took in the information. Chloe raised a brow at the comment but let it pass. "She has her own Wikipedia page," Aubrey stated.

"For real?" Chloe jumped from her seat and moved to the other side of the table, perching in the chair beside Aubrey and peering at the laptop screen. 

"'Beca Mitchell is an American producer, DJ, singer-songwriter and musician based in Los Angeles, California. She is most well known for records created with Capital Cities, Bastille and Ella Eyre.'"

"No way! What about that next bit? Scroll down," Chloe asked, pointing at the screen.

Aubrey obliged and moved the page down to view the 'Life and Career' section.

"'Beca was born in Seattle, Washington, but spent several of her teen years in Portland, Oregon. She attended college in Georgia for a year before moving to California to persue a career in music. Beca received an internship at Blueshift Records in 2012 before getting hired full-time by the label in 2013. Since then she has worked with Blueshift and their affiliated labels (Capitol, Astralworks and Harvest most notably) to create several mainstream chart hits. Beca is also known locally as a popular DJ at the club Heights in Hollywood where she has been performing on a regular basis since she moved to California.

'Mitchell was the label representative for Blueshift Records in place of their director, Michael DeCanto, during the backlash of the publicized Carley Keitel scandal in late 2016 and into 2017.' Isn't that the singer you were super into before that ridiculous drama with the affair happened?"

Chloe's jaw dropped with a gasp and settled as close to the floor as it could reach, "Totes! I thought her name sounded familiar; I must have read it online or something when it all happened. That's a bummer for her but still kind of cool."

Bree hummed, "I'm inclined to do some more digging but it appears as though her story checks out... Regardless, I don't think it would be wise to call her."

Chloe half shrugged in response with a playful smile, moving up from the seat and making her way back to the other side of the table, falling into her own chair.

"You're not actually considering it, are you, Chloe?" Bree was watching her closely, brow raised and her gaze scrutinous. 

The redhead picked at her dinner with her fork. "I might be," she replied with lightness in her tone and a toothy grin before popping a helping of pasta into her mouth. "I mean, what harm could it do? Just like Jesse, I'd get to know someone from high school again _and_ I might even get a cute date out of it."

"But she could still be a total weirdo. I mean, have you _seen_ her?!" Aubrey asked, nearly shrieking as she gestured at her computer screen, clearly having Googled pictures of the woman, "She dresses like every art school reject that's stuck working in a coffee shop for years whilst developing their 'independent project'. And that's not a good look. You can't be serious, Chloe. And those horrendous ear... things..."

"I think they're kinda hot."

"They're monstrosities, Chloe. I am all for self expression but they are just too much. It looks like visual code for 'check out how many times I've been arrested!'"

"Okay, I understand your concern, Aubrey - and thank you - but you have nothing to worry about, honestly. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"That doesn't stop me trying."

Chloe laughed with a nod, "I know, I know. I haven't decided as of yet but if I do and we happen to meet up I will let you know. Plus I'll keep you on speed dial just in case."

"Thank you, Chloe," Aubrey replied, sliding the business card across the table and back to her friend.

The redhead nodded again, "You're welcome. Now finish your food." She smiled and finished her bowlful as Aubrey gave her a mildly scornful look for telling her what to do, but they both knew it was in Chloe's better intentions. 

She moved her empty bowl to one side and pulled her planner so it lay flat open in front of her. Chloe had little on the agenda tonight, other than catching up with a few notes ready for her classes next week but they would take little time. And again, like so many evenings, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, catching up with work and washing dishes, but tonight Chloe had a small knot in her stomach. It twinged whenever she caught sight of the business card, dark number scrawled onto it. 

Excitement, Chloe thought, was the only thing it could be. She was at another set of crossroads, similar to the ones she had with Jesse when they were first introduced (or re-introduced, to that effect), that promised a journey that not many got to experience; one that went backwards as well as forwards. 

Ever the optimist, Chloe always tried to look at these things positively. The last few years had been a struggle, one that had got easier with time because by God, Chloe was no quitter, and she wasn't about to miss another opportunity to discover more about her old self and the people she had surrounded herself with.

* * *

It was late for Chloe the next morning (a little after nine), where she sat cross legged on the couch covered in a fluffy comforter and still in her pajamas, phone in hand. Her cereal bowl sat on the coffee table, long forgotten about as the quiet music from speaker in the corner of the room trickled around her. She prided herself on being a go-getter in life but the knot in her stomach from yesterday had stayed all through the night, causing a small amount of hesitation. It had kept her up for a little while, tossing and turning with it's sickly sweet uneasy feeling, not dissimilar to the one she still gets on Christmas Eve.

Flipping the card over in her fingers, Chloe thumbed the corners as they passed, slowly wearing out the paper. Staring at her phone, Chloe couldn't help but feel a small amount of trepidation at the prospect of texting this woman. She couldn't place her finger exactly on why but she knew it had something to do with the idea of finding out more to do with her years at high school.

The details had always been a bit sketchy; it turns out not too many people hung around Portland over the years since, but the ones that did always seemed to have conflicting views about things that happened like prom or homecoming. She had managed to place together the pieces that she could but she always felt as though she was missing a large chunk of her own personal development. Navigating hormones was never an easy task, and Chloe had found people have their own opinions on how they acted regardless of if it was the truth or not. Not everyone was as truthful as she was - or so it would seem.

The process of regaining memories after loss is an odd sensation. The best way Chloe has been able to describe it is like trying to catch smoke, thick and visible but with nothing to grab on to and ground you. You see it and you know something is there but it's not solid enough to hold. 

It's like the sensation when you can think of a face but not a name, like when you've seen a movie and there's that actor in it that's been in some hit blockbuster a few years ago but you can't remember what they're called until two days later when you're lying in bed trying to sleep, the name creeping up on you like it had been hidden just around the corner, and suddenly you feel so astonished at yourself that you couldn't possibly remember such a simple thing.

By now, Chloe had already typed in the number, however, and was hovering over the keyboard where buttons clacked through the speaker.

** _Hey! It's Chloe Beale! Hopefully this is the number of the cute LA producer I ran into yesterday and not some creepy dude. I'm a sucker for pumpkin spiced lattes and cozy coffee houses so I wondered if you wanted to grab a drink today at 2pm? :) Let me know. x_ **

Chloe nodded with a smile and finality, hitting the send button and placing her phone on the coffee table with a sense of due pride at her success. What harm was there in trying? None, she confirmed quickly, watching her phone screen darken before turning black.

Picking up her cereal bowl, the redhead made her way over to the kitchen to wash up. Regardless of if she was going out or not to meet Beca, she wanted to look presentable for the weekend ahead, so Chloe made her way upstairs to shower. She had a few errands to run that morning but Chloe was hoping the availability of her afternoon disappeared quickly.


	6. vi

Her evening had actually been okay. Chinese takeaway had been devoured and drinks had been exchanged. Beca had fumbled back home after her encounter with Chloe and her text from Emily, the combined events bolstering her mood just slightly; enough to make amends with her Mom after their argument last week. She had learnt the hard way that there was little use in staying angry, and though old habits die hard, Beca had grown up enough to know sometimes it's better to admit you acted like a dick... even if it took a week to admit it and feel-good junk food was the peace offering.

Her Mom sat at the piano with her drink atop the crest of the housing, playing lightly as Beca finished tidying up. The younger of the two women couldn't help but be reminded of the familiarity of their setting; Beca would always clean after dinner when she was back at high school - however reluctant she might have been. Alongside, her mother would be providing backing music that would often vary depending her mood or what she might have been doing at work that day; some lighter pieces if she needed the opportunity to relax or destress, or something more upbeat if she'd had a particularly good day.

Kathy used to work at a local bookstore when they first moved, teaching piano part time or whenever she could squeeze a lesson in to earn some extra cash. The fallout from the divorce had left them relatively well-off (now her Mom worked mostly from home as a private piano teacher, with the odd part-time shift at the store to help out), but she was never one to spend frivolously, knowing that with her daughter heading to college in the next few years (that luckily her ex-husband offered to sort out) and Beca moving out, she'd need to be able to support her daughter. Beca hadn't appreciated the effort her Mom had put in after the divorce until she was living on her own in LA.

Their relationship hadn't always been quite this relaxed; especially not through the veil of Beca's teenage angst and post-divorce anger. There were nights she'd sneak out, evenings after school spent arguing and more than a few colorful words used on her part, alongside your typical teen rebel shenanigans. On nights she had nothing else better to do, Beca would spend them listening to or making music. Everything from simple beats to full blown remixes and the occasional original song that was locked away in the digital wormhole of her computer. But all in all, she'd given her Mom a decent run for her money during her teens years. She had less angst now but the attitude was still there, though it sat alongside a pool of empathy that had grown over the last few years. She had a better understanding of what Kathy had gone through and an appreciation of how much effort she had put in.

She was lucky they shared a musical interest. Beca had not been so lucky with her Dad but her Mom had understood her drive and her desire to make it on her own in the industry. Her Mom had always understood which is why she knows she got off so easy when she was a teenager; she understood Beca was pouring a part of herself into something productive when she spent nights locked up in her room. 

They were all the reasons they both had a good relationship now she'd gotten older. It could still be rocky sometimes - their argument last week proved that - but Beca was able to own up and apologise. So could her Mom.

Finished stacking the dry dishes, Beca topped up her drink before making her way to the bar, perching on the stool and taking the time to appreciate the music her Mom was playing. She considered telling about her encounter with Chloe again, thinking how she might react if she told her it was like meeting someone for the first time. But Beca bit her tongue; she'd given out her number but that didn't mean Chloe would actually do anything with it. It was probably better to see if anything came of it or if it was just a wasted attempt. Honestly, the chance was slim. Her stomach clenched at the thought it could be worthless but she tried to shake the feeling immediately, rolling her shoulders and taking a swig of her whiskey. Although... she still made an effort to play with her phone.

"I'm going to be busy tomorrow," her Mom started, out of the blue and between notes.

Beca continued to stare at the screen, "Oh yeah?"

Kathy nodded, "We're going for coffee after my book club tomorrow morning, so I'll be out most the day."

“That's cool."

There was a pause between them; not silent thanks to her mother's playing but it was thick enough to not pass unnoticed. Her Mom spoke up again, "We might go out for dinner, as well."

“That'll be nice."

"Probably stay out late, do some weed, make out."

"Well that is the best way to work up an appetite other than exercise."

There was silence again but it lacked the quality of the last; her Mom had stopped playing. Beca knew she was phishing for her attention but she playfully neglected to give her any. Dallying with time she had, Beca only looked up after her Mom called for her. "Okay, fine. You clearly want me to bite, so I'll take it. Who with?"

Kathy looked away as though she was disinterested now that Beca asked. "Paul," she said nonchalantly.

Brows furrowed and eyes squinting, Beca asked, "Paul...?"

"Paul Danowitz. He's been a member of our book group for a while and he now owns the hardware store on the block where I used to work. We've gotten friendly."

Beca placed her phone down, passing her attention over to her Mom. "Clearly, if your plans are involving weed and making out. That's not just something you do with friends," she said.

"And how would you know? Has my daughter been dealing in illegal substances that I should be aware of?"

"Have you?" Beca countered a little defensively in an attempt to steer away the question. She eyed her phone and flipped it over so the screen faced against the counter.

Her Mom nodded, lips pursed downwards in a gesture of playfulness as she continued playing, "Touché."

Allowing her Mom to continue playing, the on-break producer took another sip of her whiskey. "So are you and Paul going on a date tomorrow?" she questioned, setting down the glass.

"A coffee date--"

“It's still a date..."

“Okay, Date Police - I'll remember that one. But fine, yes; a date that involves coffee."

"Yeah? Well make sure you inform me when you plan on bringing him home if this date goes well. I need to make sure you're not dating a secret asshole and I'll need to prepare questions; hire a private investigator to do some digging."

“You don't need to worry, Beca, he won't be your new Dad."

"Oh dude, don't. That's weird," she bristled, rolling her shoulders as if shaking a jacket off. Beca used the movement to slide off the stool and make her way over to the piano with her drink. Her phone stayed on the counter. "I'm not looking out for you or anything, I just don't want to have to go through the drama like last time," she finished.

"Trust you me, there will be no unnecessary drama if it's avoidable. I've had more than my life's fill," Kathy stated assertively with a nod. She watched her daughter approach and she skooched over to the other side of her seat, leaving a free space for Beca to sit beside her.

The younger woman neglected to take the space beside her, placing her drink down next to her Mom's atop the piano housing and settling for leaning against the instrument with her hip. Her Mom didn't flinch at the rejection and simply left the space open for her daughter to move into when she was ready.

“He's nice, though," her Mom started, placing fingers on keys again but playing an octave lower than before.

“I should hope so. How long have you two been talking?"

"A few months. He's handsome, he works, pays his bills; what more could you ask for?"

"Okay, tiger. I thought you were just going for coffee, not an afternoon marriage proposal. What're you gonna do tomorrow; elope?" Beca questioned with a raise of her brows, taking another sip of her whiskey. It warmed her throat and finally began to anchor in her stomach alongside all the food she'd eaten, making her movements a little heavy.

"I have to have goals, Beca. The webcam business isn't working out as well as I thought it would. Middle-aged women don't have such a strong target audience anymore," Kathy admitted in false seriousness.

Beca's eyes closed shut as she nodded quickly, mouth down turned in so far in disgust she looked like Beaker. "Yep-- cool. Gross," she grimaced, necking the last of her drink in an attempt to wipe the comment from her immediate memory before raising her hands in defeat and turning to the kitchen to fill her glass, "You have a nice time with your boy-toy tomorrow. I'm going to go drink myself into a coma outside while you think about if you want to continue your online business. It's been nice knowing you."

"A woman's got to make money somehow. There's no shame in it, Becs."

"Oh my goddd," she practically sing-songed as she headed to the back patio door, pulling the cigarettes from her jean pocket, "bye."

Letting the door click shut behind her, Beca lit up a smoke and turned, checking on her Mom inside. Kathy had risen from her seat, carrying her drink to the kitchen, copycatting her daughter's actions and filling up her wine with a smile on her face. Looking up, she caught Beca's eyes and mouthed dramatically through the door window something that looked like she was saying either 'elephant shoes' or 'I love you'. Beca didn't make the effort to decide which, blowing smoke into the air and gesturing with her free hand to her ear and shrugging. "I can't hear you," she uttered, watching her Mom wink at her in response and walking into the living room with her glass. 

Beca rolled her eyes and turned back to face out to the yard. She was kind of glad they had the relationship they did now that they were both older. Even though Beca would never tell anyone that. Or admit it. She'd just say her Mom was weird if anyone asked.

* * *

The next morning she was groggy. Beca woke up still exhausted, but more so than usual because her legs ache and her limbs are lead weights. In attempt to think what could be the cause, the only conclusion she could draw was the fact she'd drunk a fair amount of alcohol last night. More so than usual, anyway. It was a mix of settling the itching nerves at the back of her mind that had clouded around her phone, and the desire to welcome tomorrow a little quicker than usual. It could have been the emotional rollercoaster that was yesterday but Beca dismissed that theory quickly; she never got emotional about anything, so that was out of the question. After her Mom had settled on the couch, Beca had joined her for a few hours, watching some trashy TV show for a bit before making an attempt to catch up on whatever it was her Mom was watching at the time. It was something on Netflix... Beca couldn't really remember.

Groaning, she stretched noisily in an attempt to ease out the sleep from her muscles, arching her back and pushing her limbs straight like a cat. She floundered around for her phone on the bedside table but it was nowhere to be found.

Reluctantly she forced herself up, head thick like the rest of her body, with chin higher than usual so she used less movement in her eyelids, unwilling to drag them up and open. She looked for it briefly, vision scanning across the room but it wasn't about. But it dawned on her.

Right... She'd left it downstairs in the kitchen after last night.

Dragging her legs from under the covers and cursing under her breath, Beca swapped from shorts to loose sweatpants, and pulled on the familiar sweater she'd been wearing in the mornings to keep the chill off. She was pretty sure it was getting colder each morning, even though she'd made an effort to actually turn all the heaters back on in her room and keep the windows shut over night. Somehow the unfamiliar cold still seeped in.

She'd made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, bee-lining for her phone and clicking the home button. It didn't work. The battery was dead, and after several aggressive clicks of the button to make sure it wasn't just running slow, Beca dropped it back onto the counter. Pulling her Mom's charger out the socket in the living room, Beca clicked it into the wall unit and plugged the phone in at the kitchen. Now she just had to wait.

It wasn't until she'd started to get the coffee utensils together that she noticed it was unusually quiet about the house and the coffee was already sat in the pot, heated and steaming. Beca stopped what she was doing, letting her brain catch up with her cease in movement. Her pause was followed by a crease in between her brows. Her Mom clearly wasn't in, which meant it wasn't early, but the sun was still beaming through the bay doors to the patio. 

"...the fuck?" she muttered to herself. What time was it? She took notice of the time on the coffee maker: 10:34.

It was the first time in several months that Beca had something even remotely considered a lie-in. Maybe that was why her body felt like shit; it was finally catching up with her in an attempt to recover. She scoffed to herself. Even when she was on a break, something had found a way to punish her. Beca pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a coffee, taking a small sip to test the temperature.

Turning on her heel, Beca viewed the space around her. It was odd being in the house on her own. Though she'd been there a week already, her Mom had usually been around despite her being ‘engrossed in Not Work’, so she'd not been in the place completely by herself without promise of Kathy returning within the next hour. It was bizarre and eerie. It reminded her of high school when she'd come home to an empty house and have to cook dinner or entertain herself until her Mom got home from the bookstore. That was when she wasn't entertaining Chloe on afternoons she came over.

Eyes flitting to the piano, she wandered over, key cover left open and inviting her to play. She'd be rusty as fuck. The last time she had to play piano was for some of the tracks on Ella's album a couple of years back. Eyeing the instrument carefully, Beca took a final sip of her coffee before setting it down on the coaster and tucking loose, messy hair behind her ears. 

The stool was tucked underneath, the brunette standing front and center with fingers ghosting over checkered keys as her tips poked out from the cuffs of her sweater. This was one of the few times her size was useful; she could play standing up. It was comfortable, and Beca always found it was better for her creative juices to flow against sitting down. It also meant she could get away easily, the ever-present sensation when she was like this that someone was about to jump out a cupboard somewhere and catch her playing. It had always been something a little personal. The only reason she'd done it at work was because--... well it was her job. And it had been an opportunity that had presented itself in a way that meant she could make herself more useful - more visible - to the label, and it meant that she had an in to the studio itself.

Strands of hair fell forwards, curtaining her view as she gazed down. Pressing down lightly, Beca played the first bar of music down-tempo, weaving her way through the notes of the introduction and into the verse. The noise echoed around the room and something tugged at her elbow, a shift in gravity dragging it backwards that she fought against, refusing to stop. But the sensation was bizarre, the tune felt off-key and everything was rigid. Beca was still stuck, still misfiring. There was a rock stopping her creativity from flowing past and she couldn't shift it. Irritation pressed down on her shoulder and she stopped halfway through a slur, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. 

Picking up her mug of coffee, Beca slammed the key cover closed with a bang and moved away, making an effort to make something for breakfast. Even if it was just plain toast. It was halfway through her first slice that her phone awoke, shining with life as it started up. She tried to enjoy her warmed up bread, chewing it reluctantly as she leaned against the counter with both elbows, watching as her phone began to ping away once it'd connected to the home wifi. Just e-mails so far. She topped up her mug, the coffee far better than the food, when the familiar ping of a text chimed through the speaker. Beca moved back over, chomping away at another bite of toast before picking up her phone to inspect it closer.

Unknown Number (9:12am): Hey! It's Chloe Beale!

Inhaling on reflex, several crumbs of toast threatened passage through her windpipe and Beca spluttered, coughing so furiously she had to place the phone back and steady herself on the counter. The muscles in her neck strained, eyes watered and it took at least a minute to recoup. "Jesus," Beca said, taking a thick gulp of coffee in an attempt to clear her throat.

She grabbed her phone again and read the rest of the message.

Unknown Number (9:12am): Hey! It's Chloe Beale! Hopefully this is the number of the cute LA producer I ran into yesterday and not some creepy dude. I'm a sucker for pumpkin spiced lattes and cozy coffee houses so I wondered if you wanted to grab a drink today at 2pm? :) Let me know. x

Unsure how long she was staring at her phone for, Beca only registered the pounding of her heart and shaking fingers when she attempted to swipe over the message to reply. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours and Chloe had texted her. And why was there a kiss at the end? Was that intentional? Chloe had always been fairly free giving with her emotions so Beca chalked it up to old practice but it didn't go unnoticed. Not intentionally, anyway. 

Beca felt very hot and very cold all at once, her blood giving her a chill across her chest and arms but the external warmth of the house heating her face. Her body was still recovering from nearly choking, so that was just a side effect of that, right? The keys clicked slowly as she began to type.

** _Beca (10:09am):_ **

_Yeah, it's Beca. 2pm is cool. See you then._

Reading it over, she deleted what she'd written immediately. You don't have to be so blasé about it, Mitchell. Chill the asshole-ness, she thought.

_ **Beca (10:09am):** _

_Not a creepy dude; you got the right number. 2pm is great for me. See you at Starbucks._

It still didn't feel right but she hit the send button in a flurry anyway before she could stop herself again, placing her phone back on the counter. She checked the clock. She had four hours to get ready and make her way over. It was gonna be totally fine, so why was she worrying? She's just meeting for coffee with an old friend. That's she's not seen in like five years. Or spoken to. Who doesn't remember her.

Beca suddenly felt like she was in over her head. The anxiety wasn't something she was unfamiliar to but fuck, did it kick her in the ass every time. She went to pick up her cell again but stopped herself, stuttering between that and her coffee and wanting to make her way upstairs to get changed. She soon decided it was probably better to have a very hot shower first, even if it only eased the tension in her shoulders slightly. 

She'd be seeing Chloe again in a couple of hours and they were actually going to talk. Beca decided she should probably make a good impression.


	7. vii

Beca would be lying if she said she hadn't been there long.

She had got to the coffee house early, not wanting to hit whatever possibility of tailbacks there might have been on the way over (because there was always a lunch time rush, okay?), but also in attempt to settle the nervousness she had felt in her chest since replying to Chloe's message. Her shower had done little to ease her jitters but her pounding heart had stopped once she had finished getting ready. Usual leather jacket rested between the crease of the arm and back of the chair she rested in, a knitted cardigan, grey in color, taking it's place in standard attire commonly worn by my the brunette. Torn black jeans and boots accompanied. Beca was already prepared for the colder weather but still hadn't acclimatised.

Assuming the spot she had taken the day previous, Beca had waited until last minute to order drinks, staring at her phone as it counted towards two o'clock as the extra hot coffees cooled on the table, wisps of heat curling upward. She had given herself a good time to think about what she might say to Chloe, what they might talk about. In hindsight it was probably a poor decision, pulling up blanks and being acutely aware of how awkward it might be. Or, at least, how awkward she might be. Beca had an undeniable habit of making things insesently uncomfortable. For herself, anyway. It was something she'd not totally shaken since working in an industry where first impressions matter. 

But it was the fact that this was a complicated situation. It wasn't a first impression for her, but it was very much for Chloe.

The redhead had already wandered inside, unbuttoning her coat and freeing her hair from its confines. It wasn't until she was practically ahead of her that Beca looked up from her phone, a little after two, and inched forward in her seat in an undecided attempt on how to greet her.

"Hey!" Chloe glowed with a smile, "Sorry I'm a little late."

Beca shook her head in response, "It’s fine. I only just got the coffees so they should still be hot. Pumpkin spiced latte, right?"

Chloe slowed in her movements, folding her coat over her arm before setting it down on the rest of the chair opposite Beca, blue eyes flitting to the drinks and back to the woman in front of her again, "Yeah. That's really sweet of you, thank you."

The brunette shrugged lightly as Chloe sat, writing it off as no big deal but it went quietly unnoticed. Reaching over, Chloe grabbed the mug and wrapped her hands around it, slim fingers chilled pink with cold. She took a gentle sip, savouring the taste with a pleasured nod. The redhead hummed, "That's so good. I really wish they weren't seasonal but then I think the novelty would be lost."

Corners of her mouth twitching, Beca looked amused, "Too much of a good thing?"

"Totally!" Chloe agreed, sitting back in her chair to comfy herself, resting the mug in her lap to warm her. "I take it you're more of a black coffee drinker? That's what you had yesterday too, right?" Chloe asked, tucking her head quickly in gesture to the other mug on the table.

"Yeah... sharp and bitter. My boss always said you can tell a lot about someone by their coffee order."

"Michael DeCanto, right?"

The comment knocked against her chest. Beca hesitated, eyes squinting slightly of their own volition and she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable tension knotted in her shoulders, "Uh, sure... how did you-...?"

The redhead bit at her lip, teeth pulling at skin and guilt hitting her eyes. "I have quite a... protective roommate... and after I mentioned we ran into each other she kind of took it upon herself to... Google you?" Beca watched as a hand went to cover the woman's face in embarrassment, peaking through fingers as she continued to talk, "And we read your Wikipedia page? Which I realise now was totally insensitive of me and I'm so sorry--"

The tension in Beca's shoulders loosened and she couldn't help but smile at her feet. The Chloe she knew back in high school would have had a field day reading it. She'd probably make changes to it herself if she had the chance, and the thought made the smile linger. Itching her temple with her forefinger before looking back up at Chloe, Beca started, "No, it's okay. I kind of forget that thing exists, actually, so I can't vouch for the total validity of it. But you're right, Mickey is my boss. Which means you probably know about the whole... affair scandal that's happened."

Chloe nodded in response, listening closely. The brunette couldn't tell if it was the afternoon light setting in but blue eyes seemed to glisten with attention. Beca continued.

"And you probably know a fair bit about my work life already, which saves me the pain and embarrassment of having to explain it. But it's cool, honestly. I'm kind of used to it I guess; I've had clients do it before so it's not the worst thing that's come of it."

"Still... I'm totally embarrassed to admit to it. Aubrey tries to look out for me but she has a habit of not going about it in maybe the best of ways, especially after I said you mentioned we knew each other in high school," Chloe paused, seeing if Beca would lead the conversation but she was quiet, "You said it was junior year, right?"

And the tension in her shoulders was back, this time accompanied by a knot in her stomach that made her reach for her coffee to buy some time and settle it. Nodding, she took a drink before setting it down. Beca had realised back at the house she'd have to tell Chloe the basics of her entire life story again but that didn't mean she was any less uncomfortable with it. It meant opening up, to an extent, and that idea had never sat well with her, regardless of who it was she wa talking to. Plus Chloe... Chloe had already known and the situation just called for Beca to repeat herself which was almost the twist of the dagger in the whole scenario. She knew it wasn't Chloe's fault but it didn't make it any easier.

Setting her mug down, Beca swiped her tongue across her lips and swallowed in an attempt to dispel the dryness in her mouth. "Uh, yeah, so... I moved to Portland with my Mom - from Washington - after she finally settled the divorce with my Dad. I had a couple of months before I started high school junior year and then that's where we met. You were like--... they had this dumb buddy system for new starters where they'd pair you off with someone to get you introduced to the school and the grounds and your classes, but they chose at random out of the students in the year, and for whatever reason they thought it was a smart idea to put me with some guy off the football team. I mean... I'm cringing just thinking about it; it was so dumb. He didn't last the day, he just sat next to me in first period and then ditched me for the rest of the year. I didn't really care. I was kind of an asshole kid so I kind of gave off the whole 'don't talk to me', alt-girl vibe, you know? But you came and introduced yourself properly the next day, since you'd worked out he'd ditched me, and kind of took it upon yourself to, like... be my friend? Even though I didn't really want any friends. You kind of gave me no choice."

Chloe scoffed, "Oh, great! I'm glad to know I forced you into some kind of pseudofriendship--"

"God, no; I don't mean it in, like, a horrible way. It was kind of sweet, actually. I mean you probably just took pity on me 'cause I hadn't spoken to anyone... or if I did it was to tell them to fuck off, and I'm pretty sure there was a rumour going around I was the suspect in an arson case that killed my entire family? You know, the dumb stuff high school kids come up with; and I didn't really care, so I was just confused at first what this redhead chick was doing trying to be nice to me. Like a prank or something," Beca continued, a hand trapped between her crossed legs and the other resting in her lap.

"Okay, cool. So we were, like, good friends, right?"

She hesitated unintentionally. "Yeah, we were close I guess?" she said, rhetoric flavoring her question. As soon as the sentence left her mouth, the back of her throat felt thick like the words she'd just spoken were thinly coated in tar. It hadn't been a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth. But Chloe really had no idea, and the acknowledgment twisted Beca's insides, low down in the pit of her stomach. The realization the time they had spent together... it was gone. The really was nothing there for Chloe. And Beca couldn't help but feel a spike of that same anger she felt in college as the pain in her stomach drove itself towards the center of her chest, covered with an essence of bereavement. It had all kind of felt like a lie for Beca. She couldn't comprehend that everything might have been lost, but now... it smacked her in the ribs like a freight train and she inhaled quickly. "I didn't really have a lot of friends so you were kind of the only person I ever really spoke to," she added quickly in an attempt to play down any sense of disappointment she might be showing, and to cover any sense of uncaring her statement had passed over to Chloe. She wasn't sure if she'd missed her discomfort or not.

Chloe simply hummed in agreement and nodded, taking a sip of her latte and letting the liquid warm her further. She pressed her lips together as she swallowed, deep thought cloaking her face before she pressed forward, setting the mug on the table and retreating, "Sounds like the kind of thing I would do. God knows Aubrey couldn't shake me once we met at college and she's been stuck with me ever since."

Pressing her thumb against the palm of her hand that rested in her lap, Beca cleared her throat before asking, "You and Aubrey seem like good friends." It was more a statement than a friendly question. The lump in Beca's throat hadn't cleared so she adjusted her posture, taking another swig of coffee - following suit from Chloe - and returning to a more comfortable position. This time, both hands were free and visible. She waited for Chloe's response.

"We are. She's supported me through a lot, especially in my recovery, and we both have a lot of common goals and interests so it makes sense we stick together. She's my best friend. I think I'd still be stuck at college if it wasn't for her," Chloe chuckled lightly, a smile pulling on to her face before she wetted her lips and continued, "She's a character, to say the least, but she's important to me. I owe her a lot. I bet you have someone who helped you out a lot once you moved to Los Angeles though, right? Mine and Bree's friendship is a lot like that."

Beca's hand had clenched halfway through Chloe speaking, nails digging ever so lightly into her palm but she couldn't feel the heat pass across it and up her arm. She shrugged in response, "I don't know if what I had with someone was similar, but I know what you mean. Dax is an assistant producer at work but he was one of the less douchey guys to me at work when I started. He actually kind of helped me out a lot; gave me my first shot. But you probably don't want to know that--"

"No, that's really interesting! Were you working on a project with him?" Chloe interrupted, resting her chin on her palm as she leaned on the arm of the chair, blue eyes bright as she watched the woman across from closely.

Beca flexed her hand, discomfort clicking and she eased it as best she could. "Uh... no, actually. I was... kind of just there. I was a runner, basically; getting coffees and anything anyone needed. They had an artist in the studio and they were having an issue over a beat for their track and I blurted something out, regretted it immediately but Snoop had had enough of everyone arguing so kind of... let me help out? Mickey was pissed 'cause I wasn't really supposed to say anything but he didn't say anything in front of the client and had to bite his tongue about it... Dax stuck up for me and it kind of just went from there."

"Snoop? As in, like, Snoop Dogg?!" Chloe belted out suddenly, much too loudly as excitement filled her. 

She couldn't see the rest of the coffee house turn to look at her with frowns as she disrupted the peace of the place, but Beca flitted her own blue-green eyes across the room and back to Chloe, smirking lightly at the attention she'd drawn before replying, "Yeah, actually."

"Ohmygod, Beca! That's so cool! What's it like working with him?"

"It's how you'd expect, actually; he's a super nice guy."

"That's amazing you've had the chance to work with him. Is Blueshift quite a big record label or...?"

Beca ran a hand through her hair, "It's not huge, not like Virgin or Capitol, but we've got a few good artists signed that keep us going, so it's really all we could ask for." Blueshift had never been a particularly hotshot studio but they had their key artists that made them money and kept their head above water, but since the scandal that had all kind of gone downhill. Their clients dropped suddenly, colleagues working harder to score even basic deals and their lack of funds meaning they had to cut a few of their employees. It was a total mess. 

“What about you?” Beca asked suddenly, not wanting to continue talking about her workplace and more interested in seeing what Chloe had been doing, “You said you were a music teacher...?”

“Teaching assistant,” the redhead corrected, “But mostly for music, yes. I help teach middle schoolers but I also tutor private singing lessons. Other days I might have to jump to the art or English department to help there but my main residency is in music. It’s hard work but I really love it.”

“I bet you’re a real winner with the kids.”

Chloe laughed - almost shyly, as though she felt an acute sense of embarrassment - as she tucked a lose strand of fiery hair behind her ear, “They’re good kids, what can I say?”

“All of them? I kind of find that hard to believe; some kids that age are real devils, let alone noisy ones. I remember what my music lessons were always like and I’m surprised I came out the other side still enjoying it.”

“You clearly did not go to the right kind of school with the right kind of teacher. My lessons might occasionally be a mess but they’re a total hoot and nobody can wait until their next period with me,” Chloe nodded proudly, sitting straight and as she took a sip of her coffee with finality, like she’d finished convincing the world’s most doubtful person what kind of fabulous teacher she was, corners of her eyes crinkling as she looked at the woman opposite.

Beca’s brow was arched, “...a hoot?”

“Yeah, totes,” the redhead grinned before waggling her finger to express her point, “I might not be from LA but let me tell you right now; I’m down with the kids. I’m so cool and with the times. I even know memes.”

A chuckle escaped Beca’s mouth, creases pulling into her cheeks, “Right. And here I was thinking you were just some dorky music teacher, wide eyed and practically fresh out of college—”

“Oh, no; I’m definitely that too,” Chloe confirmed, taking another drink as the caffeinated liquid dwindled at the bottom of the mug.

A silence fell between them that wasn’t uncomfortable but it didn’t go unnoticed. Beca pushes at her cuticles with her nails as she considered her next question, how best to word it and careful not to tread on a crack in the pavement of their recovering relationship.

“So, with college... when did you finish?” she asked, trying to keep it lightweight but Beca worried the heaviness of her question fell through.

Chloe hummed, ready to speak, “So after the accident I had to take out a year and a half, pretty much. I don’t know if you knew, but I stayed here in Oregon for college—”

Beca nodded.

“Right. So I was kind of lucky because it meant I could go back and jump back into my studies. I had a lot of support from my family and a few friends - Aubrey especially- and managed to get an associates degree and start work at the school practically straight away. I did an internship there as part of my studies so that really helped, too; I majored in Music Education. But this is my first official year there outside of college so it’s super scary but really fun! I’m really enjoying it so far. Recovery was really hard for me for a while but I finally feel like I’m in a good place, you know? Everything is steady and I’ve got my own apartment,” Chloe fell quiet. “Where did you study again?”

“Georgia,”

“Oh yeah... they have that really cool university there, Barden? Did you study there?” Chloe asked, leaning forward in her chair, elbows resting against crossed legs.

“Yeah, I did, actually...” Of all the colleges in the state of Georgia, it was too much of a funny coincidence that Chloe would mention Barden.

“That’s interesting. I briefly had a look at other colleges before I went back and that one always stuck out for some reason. What’s it like there?”

“Uh... it’s like your typical southern state college, really. The weather’s nice but the people are kind of weird.”

“Did you want to study there? I remember reading you weren’t there long.”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head, “my Dad lectured there so he could get me in for free, basically. We had a deal that if I did my first year of college and still hated it, he’d help me move to LA. So that’s how I ended up there.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy it! That sucks. I’ve always believed college would be kind of a life changing experience.”

“Yeah, you did,” the brunette let slip. 

In all honestly, Beca probably would have stayed at college more than just the first few semesters if it hadn’t have been for Chloe. She would have been her grounding anchor amongst the messy seas of college, but instead she had found herself drowning in waves of pre-adulthood naïvety and teen angst.

“But the fact you didn’t stay... that changed your course, right? So my theory still kind of rings true...” Chloe asked, a gentle grin on her face. It would be smug if Beca knew Chloe was trying to one-up her, but there it was; her boundless positivity, always clean with intention, proving that there is a silver lining amongst every cloud. “It just depends how you look at it. Someone I knew used to always say ‘We look at the same sky, but some will see a thousand dead things—“

“—while others see a thousand wishes,’” they finished in unison.

Beca avoided Chloe’s gaze for long enough to miss the tight rise of the redhead’s chest and shoulders, rigidness tightening itself through her posture, all while the brunette reached for her coffee that was quickly falling below an acceptable drinking temperature. She looked over the top of her mug as she finished her last gulp, blinking and humming in acknowledgment at Chloe, letting her know she knew the phrase, “Yeah, you have a really good habit of always finding the positive in a situation.”

Chloe had fidgeted briefly once she was under Beca’s gaze, straightening the empty mug on the table to a finite degree and pressing the palm of her hands across her jeans, flattening any creases in the fabric, almost as though she was unsettled. She corrected her posture suddenly, “I do try. It’s the only way to look at some things, otherwise you’d just be miserable all the time. What’s the use in that?”

Beca almost shrugged with a smile in response, it was automatic and accompanied by a small smile that settled on her lips too comfortably for her usual liking. She pressed them together.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Chloe asked abruptly, leaning forward with hands clasped together. “As nice as it is in here, I think I’m having a bit of a caffeine rush, and I reckon it’ll be refreshing to get out for a little bit while it’s still good light."

Beca pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. They’d already been there over an hour - well, Beca had been there well over two - and the idea of a walk to stretch her legs sounded way more appealing than letting her ass get numb from sitting most of the afternoon. "Sure, that sounds good," she replied, waiting until Chloe made a move before grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair and pulling it on.


	8. viii

The air outside was colder than expected. The brunette pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, curled knuckles brushing her cigarettes and phone, and saw Chloe pull her shoulders to her ears in her peripheral, red hair pooling around her in a bob as it stayed tucked inside her coat with both of them attempting to fight off the sudden chill. The sun's rays were warm and they'd both set off walking down the street towards central Downtown, their destination not yet known.

"So, tell me more about high school," Chloe started off as she pulled her hair out from her coat, clearly uncomfortable with how it was trapped beneath, and adjusted the hood so it sat snug around her necked. It was a duffel coat, dark and navy in color that matched the rest of her attire (blue jeans and brown brogues) and complimented her figure well. Beca just looked like a burnt marshmallow in her layers.

"Are you really that interested?" Beca asked, turning to her as they walked side-by-side, hands still firmly pressed into her pockets.

"Of course. The only real point of reference I have is Jesse, and he was totally useless--"

"You've spoken to Jesse?" she asks, a small fault in her step as the brunette nearly tripped over herself.

Chloe glanced towards Beca to nod, "Yeah. We ran into each other a couple of years ago? He was visiting his parents for the holidays and he approached me. Obviously I had no idea who he was but we spoke briefly, added each other on Facebook; that kind of thing, you know? But we didn’t talk much about high school if I’m super honest.”

“Right...”

“Oh, he’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, and I can kind of remember him from before, but he never went into much detail, just what lessons we had together. He was a bit more focused on our lives right now.”

“I mean, there’s not much to tell—”

“Of course there is! I want to know, like... who dated who on the football team, what kind of assignments we had, any parties we went to, what prom was like; you know, that kind of thing.”

“Okay, first off? You don’t even want to remember prom,” Beca said, pulling her hand up to halt Chloe in her eagerness before stuffing it back into her pocket.

“What?! Of course I do! Everyone has their own prom story. It’s an important part of someone’s character development.”

“Why don’t we start off by you telling me what you remember from high school so I can get a good judgment of how much I should actually be telling you,” she suggested.

“I don’t want you to spare on the details, Ms. Mitchell. I’m perfectly well equipped to deal with whatever embarrassing situation I have to re-live,” Chloe smiled at her, eyes glittering with creases at the sides.

“It’s not so much you I’m worried about,” Beca admitted almost grumpily, brows pushed together.

Chloe laughed. It was genuine and solid and pulled at Beca’s insides when she realized she hadn’t heard Chloe laugh in years, making the pit of her stomach feel weighted with stones. She stared at the ground as they walked and Chloe continued to talk.

“Okay. Well, what I _do_ remember is we attended Franklin High in South Tabor, my brother graduated in my freshman year which I was totally bummed about, I wasn’t super popular but I was the kind of girl everyone knew because I attended a few clubs my first year and... I hated calculus. Like, a lot. But the rest of it? There’s a good block of just... a void?” Chloe’s brows crumpled in confusion and heavy thought, “Sorry, it’s kind of hard to explain and you probably don’t want to hear about it—”

“Dude, no, it’s totally okay. It makes it easier for me to understand, I guess.” Beca could feel eyes on her but continued to look forward. 

“Sure... it’s just kind of difficult to explain it because it’s kind of a unique sensation. It’s like when... say you lose your keys, right? And you always put them in the one bowl in the hallway as soon as you walk in but for whatever reason they’re not there when you go to grab them. You check your pockets, your bag, the kitchen counters; literally everywhere you could think you’ve put them but they’re nowhere in sight. It’s that feeling you get where you’re trying to remember where you put them last and you can’t think of it. You remember the last time you had them and you even remember putting them down somewhere, but the actual place you put them just... isn’t there. Like it’s black. You’re kind of conscious it’s been done but you don’t know the details, right?” Chloe looked over at Beca with slight worry and doubt in her eyes, “Sorry, that was a totally ridiculous explanation, wasn’t it?”

“No, that was actually pretty solid,” the brunette replied with a nod, looking over at woman beside her who smiled in response.

“Ok, your turn; what have I missed?”

Beca shrugged, shoulders up to her ears, making her look even more like puffed up chinchilla than was necessary, “Like I said, there’s not much else to add... Junior year we sat next to each other in English, Math and Music. Social studies you were at the front of the class and I was at the back. Chem and Bio we’d sit a seat apart and Jesse was stuck in the middle for those. Physics was kind of like social studies. But senior year we sat next to each other practically every class so you kind of had to put up with me. As for anything else... I think you dated a guy on the football team Sophomore year but I can’t remember the dude’s name. West... something? Anyway, you were still dating when I started but you broke up mid-semester, before winter break. Even though you hated calc, you loved algebra which I never could understand, so you helped me a bunch with that. And really... that’s kind of it? It was a pretty standard high school.”

She heard Chloe hum from beside her and turned her gaze, eyes falling on a cloud of red that moved lightly as they walked.

“You don’t sound convinced,” Beca frowned.

“Oh, god, I totally believe you—”

“But?”

Chloe giggled, “But... something’s telling me you’re leaving something out. I have a feeling it wasn’t just a standard couple of years of high school.”

“Well, I—” Beca stammered, falling over her words and the stumble of thoughts in her head.

“Why would I want to sit next to you in every class in Senior year if weren’t that close?” she asked playfully. “I mustn’t have found you as as weird as everyone else seemed to.”

Beca couldn’t help but smile. It was the truth, Chloe never did find her as weird as the rest of kids in her year. She never believed the rumors that floated by or the stories whispered behind her in the lunch hall. Her nervousness calmed by the playfulness in Chloe’s voice, lifting the negativity straight from her. Beca couldn’t remember when she last felt this light. “Like I said, I think you just felt sorry for me.”

The redhead shook her head in denial, “No, definitely not.”

Phone buzzing defiantly all of a sudden in Beca’s trouser pocket, she uttered an apology and whipped it out.

** _Mom (3:28pm):  
_ ** _Who’s the young lady?_

“...the fuck?” she said, stopping in her tracks with hand flat as if she was waiting to be handed something - an explanation.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe said, several paces ahead but still, face covered in light concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

** _Beca (3:29pm):  
_ ** _???_

** _Beca (3:29pm):  
_ ** _Mom_

** _Beca (3:29pm):  
_ ** _wtf_

The brunette looked up and viewed the area. They stood just off the center of Lloyd District, one of the busier commercial hubbubs of downtown Portland, and had a decent view into the street that held shop fronts and café windows. Looking out for the familiar shape, her phone vibrated in her hand again.

** _Mom (3:30pm):  
_ ** _I can see you!_

** _Beca (3:30pm):  
_ ** _no shit_

** _Beca (3:31pm):  
_ ** _tell me from where bc you’re being creepy af_

“Sorry, it’s my mom,” Beca explained, waving her phone in example.

Chloe had walked back a couple of paces and stood in front of her, “Oh, sure. Do you need to go?”

“N-No! No. It’s cool. She’s on the street somewhere but she’s being weird about it. But we don’t have to meet her! I don’t want to force you to meet my Mom during, like, the first proper conversation we’ve had since college. I mean you’ve met her before but you probably won’t remember... But I mean it’s up to you. It’s whatever,” Beca finally stopped herself. She’d been gesturing between the both of them as she spoke, weighing up her suggestions between them and leaving it ultimately up to Chloe. Beca was struggling to judge how to approach the situation, hence the spew of unfiltered speech. She didn’t want to rush her. She didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and scare her off, because in all honesty, Beca was kind of hoping they’d be able to meet up again after this. 

“Only if she’s not busy,” Chloe said finally. 

“She’s on a date too—...” Beca halted her speech again, immediately back tracking on her choice of words, “Not that this is necessarily a date. I mean, it can be if you want it to be? It’s a coffee date. It’s coffee. Sorry. I’m not usually like this; my Mom’s just freaked me out, so her being weird is making me be weird and I don’t really know how to approach this whole situation. But I’m going to shut up now and just let you answer.”

Chloe grinned, eyes following Beca’s gestures as she trundled through her thoughts and came to a stop. “It’s fine, Beca, I get it. I don’t want to freak you out even more so we can forego your mom right now if that helps? If we bump into her then that’s fine, but if not, that’s cool too.”

“Awesome,” Beca said, smiling awkwardly towards the redhead and giving a lame thumbs-up. She checked her phone again briefly before shoving it into her pocket and ignoring her Mom’s message about which store she was tucked into, intent on avoiding her.

Chloe moved forward and Beca followed comfortably. She was familiar with the direction they were heading, but so much had changed in the city since she’d last visited, there were walkways where there used to be roads and other misplaced things that she couldn't identify. For a brief moment she wondered if Chloe had ever felt the same way; she supposed it was a similar sensation that Chloe was used to. The woman's earlier analogy was a fair description and helped Beca understand a little bit more, but she knew she could never really understand what it was like for her, and the acknowledgment made her feel like she'd been kicked in the ass a little bit. She let Chloe take lead as Beca followed at her side.

"Can I ask about you moving to LA?" Chloe started, allowing the conversation to lead effortlessly onward, "I know we kind of already covered your job, but I still feel awful about reading up on you so I want to hear it directly from you."

"Sure, yeah," Beca nodded.

"So your first year of college didn't really work out and your Dad helped you move to LA," Chloe relayed, going over what she now knew, "but how did you get your internship? And what did you do to keep up with your apartment? That must have been a struggle, trying to keep up with rent and bills, right?"

She could tell Chloe was genuinely interested. Unlike most people she'd met, when asking about her earlier days in Los Angeles, they only ever seemed like they were doing it for the hell of it, just trying to make conversation. It happened a lot more frequently once Beca was beginning to make a name for herself at the label. Most of time people were just trying to be 'nice' and trying to get an in with her at the label, but Beca knew she could relax right now. She wasn't working, and people weren't asking just for the hell of it. "I started bar-tending at Heights once I moved. That was my first proper job outside of college and it kind of helped set me up. The pay wasn't great but it was enough to get by. I mean, luckily, the apartment I moved into was shared accommodation so the rent was a lot easier to manage. I got the internship pretty quickly, honestly; it was shit pay and shit hours but I managed to keep my job at Heights in the evenings. That soon developed into DJing spots - there was one night where the guy they'd booked didn't show up so I offered to step in and everyone kind of dug it, so it went from there."

"Wait, so you were working at the studio and then nights at the club?"

Beca bobbed her head again.

“What were your work hours like?”

“Oh, I--... usually I had eighteen/nineteen hour work days. I can run on, like, six hours sleep."

"Gosh... That's kind of amazing, Beca..." Chloe paused, letting her jaw slacken in slight awe and her thoughts linger, "I mean, that must have been exhausting. Not just physically, but emotionally, y'know? It's really impressive how you stuck at it, and I'm glad it's paid off like it has. I know things haven't worked out recently with your job, but if you managed to survive all of that then I'm sure you can make it through this and come out the other side. In comparison it kind of looks like a little hiccup, honestly."

An odd shyness fell over Beca, eyes suddenly cast down at the floor and she smiled nervously. It wasn't something she was familiar with feeling, the wall around her emotional availability buckling slightly under the weight of the praise. Her attitude towards her job had always been that you got what you worked for, and many of her colleagues believed the same thing. Los Angeles was filled with people who always harked on about how hard they worked to get where they were but it was rare there was ever praise for it, the general consensus of talents in California believing you had to struggle before you were allowed to be recognized, and that was the only way about it. But to hear someone commending her for her efforts and all the hard work she'd actually put in was... kind of nice, nonetheless actually have clear confidence in her ability to move forward.

The brunette ran a hand through her hair, bouncing it so dark locks parted on the other side before letting her hand fall back to her pocket. Immediately she thumbed the packet of cigarettes that sat in there nervously. "Thanks," she started, "I mean, it was nothing. You kind of have to work for what you want in somewhere like LA--"

"Oh, sure, but that shouldn't take away from all the hard work you've done. I can barely survive an eight hour work day, let alone double that, so that's super impressive already."

Recoiling, the brunette scoffed towards the redhead in a rush of breathy laughter, "Yeah, but with kids that works out to the equivalent of sixteen hours anyway, so you're basically doing the same thing. Plus, kids are _way_ more of an emotional and mental strain. And, not to mention the fact it’s a middle school?! There’s hormones and puberty flaring up all over the place.”

“Oh god, it’s really not that bad, I swear,” Chloe flailed her hand to brush away Beca’s comments as best she could, “Of course it can be tough some times but I’ve found it to be really rewarding, especially when you help a kid kind of... express themselves easier, or with more self-assurance. I believe music can really help with confidence and growth, and while some think of my lessons as an easy session, for those kids that really enjoy or need it? That’s what makes it worth the cons of the job.” Chloe held a glint in her eye that didn’t go missed by Beca, blue eyes crinkling as they always did at the outer crease and a small smile to compliment it.

“Yeah, no; I get it. Music helped me get through a lot of shit - especially after my parents divorced - so I can totally relate. It’s kind of like... totally crazy escapism, where you can just sit and either do nothing or everything, but it’s socially acceptable either way.”

“Yeah!” Chloe agreed gleefully, still smiling and open, even though her posture was closed and tucked away from the cold. Her pace slowed ever so slightly, lining up directly with Beca’s side as she pinched her shoulders up in an attempt to shake off the chill. 

If the brunette wasn’t so hyper aware of everything going on since her Mom texted her, she would have missed how Chloe matched her stride and moved a little closer. But she didn’t. So she tucked her chin down to her chest, resting on the layers of jacket and cardigan that had formed a seal by her neck, trying to ignore the shift in movement and the weird feeling pressing on her ribs from the inside out. It was a bizarre sensation to have Chloe close to her again, and her shoulders squared off briskly in automatic defense. She wasn’t too familiar with having anyone closer. Not while completely sober, anyway.

Regardless of if Chloe registered the change in body language beside her, she persisted in her decline of space, huffing out a breath as she let her own shoulders relax. “So, on the topic of music,” Chloe started, “I’m going to be totally intrusive about the next few questions, but I _need_ to know a few things and I hope you don’t mind?”

Chloe waited for a response from Beca, which came from a sure shake of her head before the woman continued. “Who has been the most obnoxious artist you’ve worked with?”

Beca scoffed, “Okay, first of all; it would be totally unprofessional of me to tell you that. You could be selling this information to E! for all I know.” 

“You’re right, I could totally do that.”

Beca hesitated, eyeing the redhead as she paced alongside. Chloe quickly shot her a grin, “I’m totally kidding. I won’t - this is for my own personal satisfaction.”

A beat.

“Bieber, for sure. I was, like, two months into the job, just managing to get a firm grasp on everything, and then he and his crew waltz in for a collab single with all these weird requests about particular candy to stock, certain scents that had to be infused into the recording studio; it was weird. In all honestly it’s mostly the agent making the weird ass demands every time but Justin was probably that kind of person, since he was _not_ taking well to any suggestions or criticisms from the label.”

“That sucks. He does seem a little weird. He’s always stricken me as looking like some kind of... squinting bird? Like an owl?”

Beca laughed suddenly, air bursting from her lungs and sound escaping her like a scoff, “Yeah, I totally see it.”

“Right?! It’s so weird! He’s just always squinting in photographs, I swear,” she wandered before pausing and continuing onto her next question, “Okay; strangest thing a client has ever done?”

“Bastille bought their own cricket set with them - you know, like the sport? - and started playing out front on their lunch breaks.”

“Interesting... What about the strangest thing _you’ve_ ever had to do for a client?”

“This wasn’t for a client, it was my boss, but I had to drive to the outskirts of San Diego and back just to pick up some pastries from a specific bakery for the office.”

“Why?”

“He swears their cinnamon rolls are better than Cinnabon’s and refuses to settle for anything else, so on more than one occasion I’ve had to drive over, order a load, and drive back with them.”

“But you were allowed to have some on the way back though, right?” Chloe turned and asked.

“What, a cinnamon roll?”

Chloe nodded.

“No way, not until I got back with them, so I bought my own stash. Mickey was weird about it. But no way are they as good as Cinnabon’s.”

“Okay, I’m fairly content with those answers. I’ve always wondered if the music industry is as odd as the tabloids make it out to be.”

“I mean, it’s not _that_ bad, but it’s tough and people can be pretty weird because it’s so competitive. You kind of have to look out for yourself and once you work for a label you have to look out for those people too.”

“Like Dax?”

Beca hummed in agreement. Dax had always been super helpful towards Beca and she could never really repay him for actually giving her a chance at the studio, but she’d always stick her neck out for him.

Suddenly a ringing hit the air.

Chloe pulled her phone from her coat pocket, apologizing once she’d read the name on the screen and walked a few paces to answer it. Beca had shaken her head, letting her know she wasn’t bothered by the interruption; she’d had to do it countless times before during meetings and recording sessions, so it wasn’t a problem for her.

“Hey! What’s up? Yeah, I’m still out...”

Beca kicked at some loose stones on the ground, the toe of her boot scuffing the pavement as her attention soon turned to her own phone. Pulling it out she clicked it open and started shooting off a text message.

** _Beca (4:08pm):  
_**_Dude, where the duck were you? Way to creep on your daughter._

** _Beca (4:08pm):  
_**_fuck*_

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot. I can come meet you there? I’m not too far away, actually,” she heard Chloe continue behind her, eyes flitting to her before firmly fixed on her phone as a set of ellipses popped up underneath her message.

** _Mom (4:08pm):  
_** _I’m in the little French café on the corner near my old bookstore. You know the one._

** _Beca (4:09pm):  
_** _Don’t ever do that again or I’m calling the police._

** _Mom (4:10pm):  
_** _Hey, I just saw you walking past and thought I’d say hi. Plus, you were with someone and I didn’t realise you had friends so I thought my only daughter might be in danger!_

** _Mom (4:10pm):  
_** _Also — police dept. know me well. They already keep an eye on me so I wouldn’t bother. x_

Rolling her eyes, Beca returned her phone to her back pocket. She neglected wanting to deal with her mother because that was another can of worms ready to wriggle free. Kathy would be on her back about who she was with until Beca finally revealed who. She was only just wrapping her head around their first conversation today, let alone trying to explain it to someone else. 

The brunette turned, facing towards Chloe but her whole attention not on her. Gazes flitted from the pavement to the redhead, trying to take in the appearance; not because she was missing looking at her, but because she was making sure she was finished on her call. And Beca couldn’t miss how Chloe had matured, how she held herself just a little differently than she used to and how her jawline was more defined and her hair seemed a slight shade darker, more vibrant. Everything at its core the same as she remembered but with strokes of something different that Beca wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get there.

Chloe turned and Beca’s eyes fell back ahead, concentrating more on the ground that anything else.

“Okay. Do you have any of my stuff? Alright. I love you! Bye,” Chloe finished with finality, tapping her phone and walking back over to Beca whilst grabbing her attention, “Sorry! That was my brother; I was supposed to be meeting him at the gym at four and I totally forgot.”

“Oh, right, sure,” Beca started, stunted by the suddenness of it all.

“I feel awful, like I’m blowing you off—”

“Ohmygod, dude, no way; it’s totally cool. Like you said, you forgot.”

Giving a small nod, Chloe smiled gently and tucked up her bottom lip as she did, “Happens a lot, unfortunately. But it was really amazing to catch up with you properly, Beca, and I really appreciate you offering to come talk to me. It means a lot.” 

“Sure, no biggie,” Beca shook it off, trying to hide her disappointment at the abrupt ending of their afternoon and forcing a smile.

Chloe moved forward, arm outstretched as she landed a hand on Beca’s arm.

“I’ll text you?” Chloe asked, a light in her eyes that Beca couldn’t read as she felt the redhead’s hand move and grasp by the wrist of her jacket.

“Yeah. That’ll be good.”

“Great. I’ll see you later,” Chloe said with a smile and a final squeeze of her hand. 

Beca waved a farewell as Chloe pivoted, making her way off from the general direction they had been heading, hair bouncing behind her. 

The brunette let out a huff of air, exhaling as the nervous energy inside her bubbled to the surface. Beca pulled her cigarettes and lit one out of habit, moving back in the opposite direction and onward towards her car.


	9. ix

“Come on; you’re fifteen minutes late and you don’t expect me to work you hard because of it?”

“Hey, I told you I forgot! It’s not my fault you swapped our days over and ruined our routine.”

Chloe had been committed to five extra reps on every machine in her exercise regime because of her tardiness. Their usual exercise day was always a Sunday, but Marco had needed to change because of a work meeting.

“Yeah? You’re lucky I rearranged our session at all. It would have been nice to have a week off from my whiny kid sister.”

“You love spending time with me,” Chloe clapped back breathy with a smile, despite being halfway through a sit-up.

Marco held her feet to the ground, pressing with his weight to stop any lift she might force when her sister pulled herself up from the mat, “When you’re sweaty and gross? Yeah, right.”

Chloe and Marco’s workout sessions had become a frequent occurrence after her accident, the doctor stressing the importance of physical exercise and a need for physiotherapy. Chloe struggled with a lot of limb movement; once her leg had finally healed, she could finally start working on getting the movement back in her hips - let alone get rid of the stiffness and shooting pains in her spine - and with Marco now a fully qualified personal trainer, it seemed only right that she use him to aid in her recovery. Or, more so, he insisted he helped. So she let him, at least once a week. Sometimes even more if she was having a good few days.

They had moved from sit ups to leg presses.

“What were you doing in the city, anyways?”

“Am I not allowed to enjoy myself on a Saturday afternoon?”

“Not when you almost stood me up.”

“Oh, come on,”

Marco shrugged with nonchalance, standing his ground with arms crossed as he kept and eye on Chloe’s form. His hair was as red as his sister’s; that kind of warm caramel color that was seconds away from burning if it had been melting on the stove. They shared the same defined jawline, sharp and shapely, but Marco’s frame was a lot chunkier from his muscle mass alone, even though his shoulders were just as square. His work shirt hugged his biceps nicely, blue in tone with the gym logo pasted on the front and PERSONAL TRAINER emblazoned on the back.

“I was on a coffee date.”

“With Tom?”

She and Tom had been over for a while. They were never totally serious but their exclusivity had become more apparent the longer they hung out. Chloe wasn't completely against the idea of them seeing other people, but Tom wanted no strings attached and she respected that. “Much to your delight, no; Tom and I are not mutually exclusive anymore, but we’re still friends—”

“With a capital ‘F’?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, mimicking a similar shrug to her brother’s earlier gesture, “I have needs.”

“Gross,” Marco said, displaying his tongue in an expression of disgust, “Moving on from that quickly; who with?”

Chloe pressed her legs outward against the pressure of the weights, a bubble in her stomach at the thought of her afternoon coffee. Or was it the adrenaline that amplified any sensation in her body? “I met up with someone from high school,” she started, eyes darting to her brother at her side and back again, “went for a walk, had a little catch up. It was nice. Her name’s Beca?” 

Chloe finished her speech as a question. It was almost unintentional but she had always reached out to her brothers for help when it came to remembering anything. They had always been close, even more so after her accident, and even with Ben in Florida they still talked. Chloe had remembered they spoke a lot while she was in high school and they were at college, so she always hoped they might be able to help her out.

Marco repeated the name, letting it fall into his consciousness and seeing if he could pull anything from it. “It rings a bell, actually.”

She stopped, turning to meet his eyes with raised brows as an uncapped burst of excitement flew through her center. “Yeah?” she asked, her legs going slack and the weights of the machine smacking on top of each other - poor gym etiquette.

“Yeah,” her brother replied bluntly, a stern look on his face as the noise echoed around the gym hall.

“Sorry...”

“Yeah, it does. Beca M-something—”

“Mitchell.”

“That’s it. You spoke about her when I was at college whenever I could actually tie you down long enough to talk to me, since you were always so busy studying.”

“I took school very seriously,” Chloe quipped back alongside a smile, “But I was probably just busy enjoying my teen years.”

Her brother slapped her calf with the back of his hand as they rested against the press plate of the machine, “Come on, five more. Well, from what I remember, you seemed pretty stoked on her for whatever reason.”

Chloe reluctantly responded to his instruction, adjusting her posture and pressing forwards again with her legs for five more reps. They struggled, shaking against the weight and strain of the constant pressure as she listened to Marco’s response. “I mean, she is kind of cool. Like, LA-music-producer-kind of cool. She’s been in the same room as _Justin Bieber_.” She added in an almost whisper, ducking her head slightly as if it was a secret.

“Who is that?”

“Ok, you literally have been living under a rock. I can’t believe you’re related to me.”

“Wow. Get me where it hurts, Chlo,” Marco pressed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt.

Chloe rolled her eyes with a dramatically faux display. “Anyway,” she started, standing from the machine, grabbing her towel and water before heading over to the free weights across the room, “We bumped into each other the other week. She reached out and gave me her number, so I took her up on her offer.”

“And how’d that go?” Marco offered a set of dumbbells.

And Chloe hadn’t really thought about it until then. She’d been rushed from one place to the next, abruptly ending their meeting like a sudden change in the weather. She hadn’t let clarity settle in her mind, resting like leaves after a gale. It was a very positive experience overall; the coffee was good and their conversation had flowed easily. She had felt comfortable talking to Beca. Heck, she feels comfortable talking to anyone, but there was something apparent with their exchanges that made her feel... welcome? It was hard to decipher within the seconds she thought about it, clockwork slipping and nothing quite slotting into place. She did feel kind of special, though, to be speaking with someone with such caliber of talent; so much so that it sent a rush through her system from admiration of aspiration and achievement that Beca had.

“It went well, actually,” Chloe started after hesitation, stopping to let the process of words pass from her brain to her mouth, lifting a weight from her hips to her shoulder and down again to buy some time, “it was unlike with Jesse where it was kind of awkward - this was kind of refreshing. I mean, she’s, like, super awesome; she’s a music producer in LA and works for a label and everything, plus she worked super hard to get there. It’s kind of inspiring—”

“Sounds like you’ve got the hots for this girl,” Marco teased.

Chloe scoffed, “Please, after the first meeting? I’m not a total creep... But she is cute though. Like, hella cute. She’s got that kind of badass ‘back off’ vibe, but she’s tiny so it’s like a puppy trying to bite your ankles.”

“Napoleon complex?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised... But I don’t get that kind of vibe, you know? I guess working in the music industry you learn to tell people where to shove it if they need it pretty quickly.”

“Did she help jog your memory?”

“A little. She feels super familiar. But since I had to ditch her and come here I feel like I didn’t get much time to get to know her properly,” she teasesed with a squint of her blue eyes.

“Well for that comment you can do an extra set of bicep curls—”

“What?! No, Marco, come on—” Chloe almost whined, letting the weights hang at her sides in defeat.

“And then you can stretch and get out of here.”

“Thank you,” she sing-songed.

“Will you be at Mom’s tomorrow?”

Right; it wasn’t Sunday today. They usually both left after their session and went to her Mom’s for dinner. Again, a routine thing that meant she saw her Mom frequently and had chance to spend time with her family. She never needed an excuse but it always nice to go with Marco too and it made her Mom’s week. The thought didn’t falter her as she responded, “Oh, for sure.”

“Cool, I can pick you up after my meeting if you want?”

“I don’t know,” she thought aloud, “I might go earlier since I’ve got some free time. I’ll message you?” Now that her Sunday afternoon wasn’t busy, she was welcomed with more availability than she expected. Maybe she could talk to her Mom about Beca. If they were such good friends, they probably would have hung out after school and spent time together, right? It was kind odd that she’d never mentioned Beca since.

Marco nodded with surety in reply, letting her finish her final set of reps and monitor her stretches before allowing a quick high-five upon completion and a goodbye. Chloe left for the changing rooms, grabbing her wash bag and towel and heading to the showers. Something she recognized was playing through the gym speakers, quiet as it echoed through the room and even over the spray of the shower itself. She hummed along.

The water was hot; a welcome release on her aching muscles as she rolled her neck. She freed her hair from the lazy bun it had been stuffed into, tucking it under the stream of water and letting it fall over her head, across her face and back to her shoulders in a gentle cascade. And she allowed herself more time to think. More time to think about her day, about Beca and what kind of relationship they might have had - if what the brunette had said was all true, of course.

Because if it was, it meant that she could regain a solid few years of her life back. And she could be reminded of what it was like before the accident. Ever since it happened, Chloe had struggled with a definite divide between before and after. There had never been a 'leading-up-to', as such, with what happened in the months, days prior. In the hospital it hadn't even felt like there had ever been a before. The only thing she could remember were brief, scrambled moments during and everything after. The lights, the noises, the feeling. There hadn't been anything concrete that was before, not until she got home. Even with her family who had visited, there were only fractions of memories. Recognizable faces but nowhere to place them. Ben had flown in from Florida as soon as he could, Marco and her Mom had been there as often as they can. They'd even somehow managed to sneak in Bentley, her Mom's retriever, into her hospital room one day, all in an effort to help her recover her memory. 

But when she got home it was like it all piled on top of her, avalanching from somewhere high above and suffocating her with everything at once. She'd been a wreck for days, hours spent trying to process the masses of information that barreled at her. It had been akin to grief, wounds fresh as she had to remember everything she had lost in the accident. Her Mom had even done her best to lighten the load, limiting the amount of things she had to recall on by removing objects from the house. Chloe had no idea what she had moved or where too, and the thought sparked in her head enough for her to make a mental note to try to not to forget to ask her about it tomorrow. 

The best time for memory recovery, her doctor had said, was within the first year. After that? It would be hard or nearly impossible. But Chloe had thought she'd done pretty well since then, even outside that first twelve months. There had been a definite decrease in how well she could recall things, how much old triggers had ceased to help, but she had still managed to remember pieces with enough effort.

But she was thinking about Beca. About what they must have been like. What Beca was like. Chloe knows herself enough that she wouldn't surround herself with someone she didn't like, so they must have been good friends. Being around Beca had felt exciting but comfortable. But what had it been like to spend time with her? Did they do the typical high-schooler stuff of finishing their homework together? Sneaking out to go to parties at the weekend? Chilling by the bleachers? Chloe let the hot water cascade over her hair again, making it slick as she washed out her shampoo and scrubbed down with her body wash.

And she was thinking about the spaces where Beca could have been. If they'd have hung out at Chloe's house, had she been in her room? How often did they spend their time together? Would they have had sleepovers? She wanted to know the details, the kind of details someone else might find meaningless but to her they were crucial, they were what made her feel more real and less like the result of an aftermath.

Chloe was determined. She wanted to know as much as she could about her relationship with Beca. She wanted to know more about _Beca_. Her getting cut off this afternoon was only an excuse to get back in touch with her, even if she knew she didn't need one. But Chloe was determined as she rinsed off the suds from her body, switching the shower off and grabbing her towel. Because even if she forgot some things still, Chloe was still always determined. And that's all that mattered. It was all that had got her through. And something in her gut was telling her Beca was the answer, she just didn't know what for.


	10. x

The walk back to her car was bitter, and for once not because of her mood, but because the weather. Her cheeks stung even before she got back home, nose pink from the switch in temperature between outside, her slightly warmer car, and the heat of the house as she stepped in. Pressing the door shut she could hear talking coming the kitchen, but it wasn't the tinny drone of the TV set or radio; it was solid and echoed through the house. Beca didn't recognize it as her Mom's voice. It was deeper, more masculine in tone and was followed by Kathy's laughter. Beca made her way to the living space, peeking her head round the corner as the back of the room came into view.

Her Mom, who stood to one side of the bar, spotted her. “Oh, Beca!” she said with small surprise, walking over to her. The guy sat down turned in his seat to face her. Beca caught her Mom’s eyes as she bounced brows in suggestion and gestured her head in a backwards motion, but Beca only looked at her in confusion.

“This is Paul,” Kathy started, pulling her daughter towards the kitchen. Beca sniffed in response, her nose still pink with cold as she was dragged forward.

Paul, who now stood to greet her, was tall. Not so tall that when her Mom stood by him the difference in height was glaringly obvious, but enough to notice she was small. His frame was okay - kind of well built for a guy a similar age to her Mom - but Beca wasn’t impressed by anything. His jaw was defined, nose slim, eyes dark and hair a dirty silver. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Beca,” he offered a hand and she shook it, making sure to grip a little tighter than necessary. 

Her defenses were up, sharp and alert. Someone new and unfamiliar was in her house and she didn’t like that. Her Mom hadn’t mentioned she was actually going to bring him back home, either. It was nice to have some fore-warning, but Beca wasn’t entirely joking about the background checks on Kathy’s new interest. 

“Likewise.”

“Your Mom has told me a lot about you—”

“Oh really? That’s funny; she hadn’t mentioned you until yesterday,” Beca pulled back, posture straight and her sense of presence had inflated - something she had become well practiced in for her work despite her size. Enough sarcasm laced her voice that nobody was sure if it was a joke or not and an odd silence hung in the air.

It was brief enough to be noticed before her Mom cut in with a pat on her arm that was playful but loaded with some scalding undertones. Beca was sure they were going to talk about later, “My daughter, the comedy genius. Did you have a good time out with your friend today?”

Beca hesitated, side-eyeing Paul before moving to take off her jacket and placing it on the back of the couch. “Yeah,” she said shortly, “It was just someone from high school.”

Her Mom caught her eyes as Beca threw quiet emphasis on who she was with, allowing her to put two and two together before letting out an oh of realization once it settled, “How’d that go?”

Beca shrugged and folded her arms, leaning her butt against the back of the couch next to her jacket, “I’ll tell you later. What’s more important is how you two love book-worms got on.”

Kathy laughed through nervousness more than actually finding her daughter funny, “Well the coffee was nice and the book group went well, so all in all it was a pretty positive experience.”

“Kathy had pick of the book for next session and chose a real good one,” Paul nodded in response.

“Delightful. I’d ask what you went for but I'd literally have no idea," she said to her Mom.

"She's got good taste, regardless."

"We'll see about that," Beca muttered loud enough to be heard by Kathy.

Paul quickly continued, pulling his car keys from his pocket, "I really should be going -- thanks for the coffee, Kathy. And it was great to properly meet you, Beca. I'm sure I'll see you again."

"I'll walk you out," Kathy quickly said, following him to the front door. She gave her daughter a look as she passed, wide-eyed and glaring. She only gave a tight lipped smile and nodded in response, caught between the gaze of both Paul and her Mom. Beca gave a small wave as he passed and headed to the door.

Pulling away from the couch she made her way to the refrigerator, peering inside in a quest on what to make for dinner. Mostly to buy herself some time but she wouldn't say no to some food.

The front door clicked and light footsteps tread towards her. Beca pulled out a Tupperware of leftovers from the other night she hadn’t eaten - some homemade burritos - and went to heat them up. 

The microwave droned for several seconds before her Mom piped up, “You’re supposed to be nice to him.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I needed forewarning before you bought him over; the background check wasn’t a joke,” Beca replied, watching the container spin idly in the machine.

“He dropped me off from the city, I asked him in for another coffee and he said yes. It wasn’t like I was entirely expecting it to happen but it did so... there.”

“Consider me told,” she replied, head turning to her Mom with brow arched riefly before double-taking at her posture. Kathy’s arms were crossed firmly across her chest. 

Beca smirked at the image. Her Mom was reminiscent of a disgruntled teenager, similar to what Beca probably looked like several times in high school. “I’m having some weird kind of flipped dejá vu,” Beca admitted, pointing between them, “I’m pretty sure I’ve looked at you the same way you’re looking at me right now.”

Her Mom rolled her eyes and relaxed her posture, pulling Beca’s jacket off the back of the couch and draping it over the back of a bar chair, “Just don’t be so rude to him next time. He was actually really nervous to meet you.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“If you’ve not scared him off completely, yeah. And if you have, I’ll weigh that on your conscience; you ruined your Mom’s potential relationship.”

“You’re fine, you don’t need a relationship. You’ve got your online boyfriends.”

“Well they’re not doing much to satisfy me sexually, if I’m hon—”

“Ohmygod, that is so gross and why did I bother?” Beca covered her ears immediately. She’d had more than her fair share of her mother’s antics since she’d been here, “Peace pact, please. We’re not talking about your weird webcam-joke-that-I’m-not-really-sure-is-a-joke thing anymore. I came here to relieve stress, not experience more alongside a sky rocketing blood pressure.” Beca removed her hands from her ears as she waited a response.

Kathy hummed in thought before giving a small nod, “Fine. Only if you promise to be nice to Paul from now on.”

“I will give him another chance. I can’t promise anything else.”

“Well then I can’t promise about keeping my online sex life a secret—”

“Oh look at that, my food is ready!” Beca near shouted, turning to the microwave that was seconds away from beeping and ripping the door open to pull out her food.

She grabbed a fork, leaving it in the container - because what was the use of using a plate? It was only more washing up to be done. Beca moved about the counter and perched on the same stool that shared her jacket.

Her Mom let her take a few bites, pouring them both a glass of water and Beca her own mug of coffee that was leftover from Paul’s visit before she even considered saying anything. “How was Chloe?”

And hearing her Mom say her name again after finally talking with Chloe since college made the muscles in her shoulders seize. Her posture was hunched.

Beca tried to respond on autopilot but her choice of words fell to be particular, “She’s well.”

“I didn’t realize you were meeting up with her today.”

“I didn’t mention it.”

The tension in her shoulders hadn’t eased but Beca powered through to take another mouthful of food, buying time where she could. Because honestly? She didn’t know if she was ready to talk about it yet. She didn’t want her Mom asking prying questions about how she felt and why she did it and what they talked about. It felt almost overwhelmingly private and Beca didn’t want to share that information just yet. She doesn’t know if they’re even going to be friends again for fuck’s sake. And Beca doesn’t know if it’s the best idea if they will.

“You both looked like you were having fun, though. It was odd seeing you both together, though; gave me flashbacks of your high school years.”

“Yeah.”

“You were both connected at the hip, always talking about something or other, and she’d always come over after school—”

“Mom, I know. I was there.”

“I don’t know if I’ve said this, Beca, but I’m really glad you made friends with her.”

“It didn’t really happen that way around, but cool.”

“Well regardless, I’m glad you had each other. She helped you out a lot and she’s such a sweet girl that I was hoping she’d be a good influence on you; maybe rub off on you a bit and make you less grumpy—”

Beca groaned and dropped her fork, arms resting on the edge of the counter as she balled her hands to fists in frustration, “Mom. It’s great you think all that but right now I just—... I don’t want to talk about it, okay? It was a super heavy afternoon.”

Because looking back on it... it was. It had come with a slow, dawning realization that Chloe didn’t actually remember Beca at all. Not just acknowledging that it had happened, but actually understanding what that meant for them both; the loss of all those moments that now was wavering on uncertainty if they had actually existed. Beca needed to work through it all by herself before she could articulate it to anyone else, and fuck knows how long that would take. 

Her Mom apologized and asked if she’d had a nice afternoon regardless. Beca just nodded and hummed, reluctant to continue talking about it. Kathy quickly got the message that Beca’s stunted answers and tight posture were trying to put across, leaving the subject there. She made herself busy, tidying the coffee things that had been leftover and let Beca finish her food.

“I’m going to watch a movie if you want to join me? I know they’re not really you’re thing but the offer is there,” her Mom said finally.

Beca nodded, “I’ll grab my laptop and give you some company. How’s that for a compromise?”

“It’ll do. I didn’t think you’d be interested in watching Fifty Shades of Grey anyway.”

Beca looked up from her food, staring at her Mom blankly before speaking, “if you’re going to watch that I’m going back to California.”

“Fine, Fine. I’ll watch some soft porn instead.”

“I mean that’s better but it’s basically the same thing!”

“I’m just kidding—”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kathy said, moving to the couch and turning the TV on, “But I was actually going to watch a rom-com.”

“Oh great, even better,” Beca groaned.

* * *

She’d been subjected to an hour and a half of Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher arguing about money or something (she hadn’t paid attention, she just knew there was a lawyer involved) as she scrolled through new work e-mails. Now her Mom was dedicated to something on Netflix that was equally as gross with copious amounts of ridiculous drama.

And she’d only been distracted by it for a bit, some onscreen doctors discussing their crushes on other colleagues with other colleagues, when her laptop pinged and a notification showed on her screen.

** _Chloe (19:02):  
_** _okay, so I realize blowing you off like that was totally uncool. sorry I had to run off._

Beca had her messages from her phone linked to her laptop; a neat trick Dax taught her a few weeks into her internship since she had a habit of leaving it in the studio or the break room. It currently rested in her jacket pocket still. Her chest inflated suddenly at the sight of Chloe’s name and she was typing out a reply before she knew it.

** _Beca (19:02):  
_**_Honestly no biggie. You had stuff to do, it’s cool,_

** _Chloe (19:03):  
_** _I still feel guilty about it! let me make it up to you? please? :)_

** _Beca (19:03):  
_** _And how are you expecting to do that?_

** _Chloe (19:03):  
_** _my sweet talk, great company and beaming smile...?_

** _Beca (19:04):  
_** _I don’t know, that seems too perky for me._

** _Chloe (19:04):  
_** _oh that’s right, you were the broody loner kid at high school. has that really stuck even through adulthood?_

** _Beca (19:04):  
_** _More than I’d like to admit. But hey, at least I wasn’t a loner for long, right?_

** _Chloe (19:05):  
_** _absolutely. one of the beale knights came to save the not-really-a-damsel in not-so-much-distress. it’s almost the perfect fairytale._

** _Beca (19:05):  
_** _Dork._

** _Beca (19:05):  
_** _Shit, sorry. That was rude. Force of habit._

** _Beca (19:05):  
_** _Totally just insulted you so I totally get if you want to call this off._

** _Chloe (19:06):  
_** _beca chill. It’s cute! besides, somehow I feel like that’s probably not the first time you’ve said that to me? just a hunch..._

** _Beca (19:06):  
_** _Yeah._

** _Chloe (19:07):  
_** _what I was going to ask is that if you wanted to meet up again? I actually had a really great time with you today even if we were cut short, but I feel super comfortable with you and you feel kind of familiar (which is a good sign!) so I wanted to check if you wanted to hang again? ball’s in your court :) x_

And Beca hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. And just like that she’s confronted an ultimate decision that could determine her relationship with Chloe moving forward. Did she want to give it a chance?

She had played the whole situation by ear up until now, not really thinking. Beca liked to have a plan for most things but since she knew she was welcome to stay with her Mom until at least New Year in a couple of months, she just thought she’d leave when she got bored. Because she would always have to go back to work. And that meant not getting too comfortable. If Beca said yes, it would only end with her having to leave Chloe again like when they went to college. It would become a fruitless attempt at trying to get back in touch with the redhead again. Beca’s work kept her busy enough as it was and she rarely had any free time. Sure, modern technology was a great source for being able to keep in touch with someone but they wouldn’t actually be able to _see_ each other. Chloe had her life settled here and Beca had hers back in LA. They were worlds apart.

But the part of her that had once been angry, that had once been pissed that Chloe never spoke to her again simply because she hadn’t known why, the one that had calmed in essence over time was pressing her forward lightly, like a hand guiding the conscious, decision-making part of her brain to press on the lettered keys.

And it was proof to just how much LA had changed her. She was more determined but more forgiving, a steady balance of how Beca had become less bitter and more understanding. She was still a little closed off but it was in a less obvious, outward way than she used to be.

And she tried to fight it, but with such little effort that it wasn’t enough to win. Because Beca was always weak for Chloe. She always had a soft spot, ever since the day they met. The redhead had kind of vaulted Beca’s metaphorical wall and landed gracefully the other side like she hadn’t even noticed she’d done it. And she’d stayed there, in some corner of Beca’s mind that was quiet. Quiet enough to go unnoticed even now.

** _Beca (19:12):  
_** _Sure, dude. Sounds good._

** _Beca (19:12):  
_** _I’m a kind-of jobless scrub right now so whenever is easiest for you, just let me know._

** _Chloe (19:13):  
_**_oh great! I was kind of worried you were going to say no. I can’t do tomorrow cos I’m seeing my mom but I work monday_ _through wednesday_ _and half a day thursday._

** _Beca (19:13):  
_** _That’s cool. How is your mom?_

** _Chloe (19:13):  
_** _yeah she’s good! my brother and I see her every sunday and I look after her dog often so I see her quite a bit. did you meet her a lot? would she know you?_

** _Beca (19:14):  
_** _I mean maybe? I came over your house for dinner and homework assignments sometimes but I totally get it if she’s forgotten about me since I’ve not seen her for a while. She’s been busy._

** _Chloe (19:14):  
_** _well I’ll ask her tomorrow and let you know ;)_

“What are you smirking for?”

Beca’s eyes flicked up from her screen to look at her Mom, face falling from whatever expression it had settled in. Beca felt like she’d been rumbled, “W-What?”

“You’re not watching some video of someone falling over without me, are you?”

“No.”

Kathy looked at her suspiciously through squinted eyes, television screen still animated in the background as Beca met her gaze from across the room.

“Dude, what?! I’m not!” Beca insisted, shoulders bunched as she spread her hands away from the keyboard like she needed to show she wasn’t hiding anything with her hands.

“Sorry, Miss. Tetchy,” Kathy raised her hands up in surrender to her daughter, returning to face the television set, “You made a noise so I looked over and you were grinning to yourself. You don’t do it very often so it piqued my curiosity.”

“Har-har,” Beca retorted, rolling her yes and shaking her head. Her Mom stayed silent and concentrated on her show. And she looked back to her laptop, scowling in annoyance because she totally did smile often; it was just never usually in the presence of others. And if she was it was probably at their expense, too.

** _Beca (19:18):  
_** _If she says anything negative about me please don’t believe it. I’ve changed. I’m a good(er) person now._

** _Chloe (19:18):  
_** _well if she tells me you have horrible grammar, I’ll be inclined to believe her! (the correct term would be just be ‘better’, since the ‘now’ kind of implies you weren’t before anyway)._

** _Beca (19:19):  
_** _Yes, Miss Beale. Is that my free tuition quota for the week?_

** _Chloe (19:19):  
_** _yes, so use them wisely_

** _Chloe (19:19):  
_** _but if you were as sweet as you say you were I’m sure you would have left a good impression_

** _Beca (19:19):  
_** _I never said I was sweet_

** _Chloe (19:19):  
_** _well you seemed it from what I hear_

** _Beca (19:20):  
_** _Incorrect._

** _Chloe (19:21):  
_** _might seem like a weird question but did you ever leave anything at my mom’s place?_

** _Beca (19:21):  
_** _Uhhhhhh..._

** _Beca (19:22):  
_** _Maybe? I don’t really remember. Like I got you presents and stuff sometimes but you probably don’t have them anymore._

** _Chloe (19:22):  
_** _YOU DID?!??!!!!_

** _Chloe (19:22):  
_** _WHAT DID YOU GET ME?!_

** _Beca (19:22):  
_** _Oh, you know, nothing special._

** _Chloe (19:22):  
_** _NOOOO BECA PLEASE TELL ME! you must remember!!_

** _Beca (19:23):  
_** _Eager much?_

** _Chloe (19:23):  
_** _yes! I love presents! who doesn’t love presents?!_

** _Chloe (19:23):  
_** _oh wait_

** _Chloe (19:23):  
_** _why do I feel like you don’t like presents_

** _Beca (19:24):  
_** _I’m not a fan_

** _Chloe (19:24):  
_** _I feel like you’re gonna say you’re not a fan_

** _Chloe (19:24):  
_** _see! my hunch was right_

And now Beca was somewhere between wanting to beam and wanting to escape. The corners of her mouth were upturned but her teeth worried her bottom lip simultaneously, conflicting emotions spreading through her like the start of a wildfire.

** _Beca (19:25):  
_** _You should trust your hunches more often. Good job, Beale, you quickly worked out my general distaste for most things ‘pleasant’._

** _Chloe (19:25):  
_** _I will from now on! detective beale is on the case. nice to finally pull up some clues for your case file, miss. mitchell._


	11. xi

When Chloe walked she liked to sing to herself. Not incredibly loudly (unless it was a crack of a tune from her phone beating into her headphones that just begged to be belted out), but just under her breath. Quietly, enough for her to hear and to have the echo travel on the wind past her as she moved, where anyone walking by her might be welcomed with a gentle tune to make them smile. Because if Chloe wanted anything in this world it was to make people smile. That was why she worked where she did; at the school, sharing her joy in the best way she knew how. Music was her gateway to an easier, sneakier way of sharing emotion and she loved the possibilities it granted her. She knew how much it had helped her and she wanted only to share that with her students.

So she sang to herself, one headphone plugged into her ear while the other hung over her shoulder, underneath the coat wrapped around her loosely. She’d warmed up since she’d set off from the apartment - leaving Aubrey to her cardio workout that she did without fail every Sunday morning - so she carried the scarf she had been wearing in clasped hands in front of her.

And the beat put her a spring in her step, her small bag bouncing at her hip as she tread through the park on the way to her Mom's, early to their usual Sunday get-together. The wind wasn't as biting as it had been yesterday, and though it was still cold, the sun was shining with that tender end-of-fall warmth that warned winter was heading towards them. The ground was lit like embers, warm leaves coating the ground and parts of the walkway, sunbeams falling through the shedding gaps between the branches of the trees around her.

Chloe had grown to love walking — exploring. She had always liked walking but after her accident it was her way of spearheading her recovery. Exploring the hospital (although awkward with her wheelchair), about the house and in the yard with her crutches. She was always in need of fresh air, quickly growing tired of any room she was stuck in as the air got stagnant and dull. So she pushed herself outside to enjoy the weather, regardless of what it was and she’d grown to adore the activity.

But Fall? Fall was Chloe’s favorite season before spring. She loved the smells in the air, the seasonal foods that felt rustic and warm and a little bit sweet, and how everything glowed her shade of orange; the vibrancy that always pressed its warmth straight into her soul. Because it was an odd time, too. The wildlife was ending its cycle before returning, but there was so much beauty to be found at the end before the rebirth in spring. And just the thought of it made Chloe smile to herself as she continued to sing along to her music, enjoying the color scheme of the world before her.

She didn’t live too far away from her Mom’s place. It was probably a thirty minute walk from Aubrey and her’s apartment, just a bit longer than getting to work since it was a little further out, but Chloe never minded. It was the perfect distance; close enough that it was easy to visit often, but far enough away for Chloe to have her own space and feel as though there was a healthy bit of distance. She had got a pandering for wanting to live apart from your parents when you get into your twenties, which Chloe had listened to.

But she loved her Mom. And she never wanted to be too far away which is why she decided to stay in Portland; it was easier but it also meant she could be close to her immediate family, and the other half of them only lived a state over near Seattle so they were always close. It was just hard to drive. Chloe could still do it, but the whole task mounted on her anxiety. She only ever would if it was needed of her, like picking up groceries for her Mom, but a niggling voice in the back of her head throbbed every time she climbed into a car. It was worse if someone else was driving. She would have no control over the wheel and made no decisions on when to pull out or turn a corner.

So instead she walked - or cycled; she'd taken up cycling to work. She had one of those cute pastel blue bikes with the wire basket on the handlebars. It proved the easiest and quickest mode of transportation for her, as well as a good source of exercise. She just loved being outside.

Rounding the corner to her old street, Chloe couldn’t help but smile of at the stretch of houses, separated by hedges or white picket fences. She remembers playing with her brothers in front of the house, Ben always going first in whatever game they decided to play because he was the oldest. And she remembered how her Mom and Dad would watch them from the front porch, sitting in their own designated chairs as they drank their weekend tipple. She smiled to herself as she thought of it, watching her feet fall one in front of the other.

Looking up, she spotted a figure in front of the house next to her own and pulled the headphone from her ear. "Hi, Mr. Cheswick!" Chloe waved over the fence to the neighbor as she walked towards him, one half of an old couple who had lived next to her family home since she was small.

He was raking the leaves from the front yard when he looked up and spotted the young woman. “Ah, Chloe!” he said walking to her and checking his watch before frowning, dark whispy eyebrows headlining his eyes, “You’re early today.”

Nodding, Chloe stopped at the fence to talk, placing the discarded scarf back around her neck before grasping the wooden frame, “Yeah; Marco is busy with work so instead of getting a ride with him I thought I’d come over early, help Mom out a little bit with the dinner, make sure Bentley gets a good fuss, you know the drill.”

“You’re a good girl looking after your Mom so often.”

“I can’t let Marco take all the praise, you know how highly Mrs. Cheswick talks of him.”

“Yes, she’s much too soft on that boy.”

Chloe smiled before nodding toward the house, “How is she?”

“Doing far too well to be married to me,” he turned to the direction Chloe had nodded, hands resting one on top of the other at the top of the rake.

Chloe reached a hand over and squeezed the fabric just above his elbow softly, “We both know that’s not true!”

“You’ll understand when you’ve got yourself a husband,” Mr. Cheswick turned back to face her as she retreated her hand.

“Hey, lets not just restrict me to the guys here,” she laughed.

“Yes, that’s right, I forget you kids nowadays; you’re more like the youth of the sixties than you know.”

“What do you mean? You couldn’t possibly know; you weren’t even born then.”

“You flatter me, Chloe.”

She laughed as he smiled back at her, “I’ll see you later, Mr. C.”

“Take care, Chloe.”

“You too,” she tapped at wooden fence before pushing herself away and making the next few steps towards the house next door, “Tell Mrs. C. I say hello!”

The old man waved at her in response and continued raking his yard. Chloe pulled the phone from her pocket and stopped the music that was still playing as she hopped up the stairs to the front porch. Reaching the mat at the front door, she wiped her feet while looking at the empty but cushioned wicker chair on her right. “Hey, Pops,” she said with a gentle smile before opening the door and walking inside. “Hello!” she called out.

The first thing she heard before she had even shut the door was a bark, then the tittering of paws on the wooden flooring, scurrying towards her from the back of the house. The golden retriever rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and raced towards her. Chloe knelt, readying herself with open hands and prepared to pet the animal as much as she needed. Tail flailing everywhere, Bentley tucked his head into her hands before turning around and pressing against her knees, allowing Chloe to rub at the spot behind his ears and down his neck. "Who's a good boy?" she said, moving to rub towards his stomach, and the pup turned with open mouth and lopsided tongue as if to answer. But he couldn't sit still, and continued to move until Chloe slowed and pushed herself up. "Where's Mom?" she asked Bentley, waiting for him to move towards whatever direction she was in. He made his way back the way he came, through the end of the hallway, tail swinging in tow.

Chloe followed him to the back yard where she spotted her Mom sprinkling potted plants in her garden with needed water. Her Mom was still as blonde as she had always been, the color retaining its gleam of healthiness. Bentley was pacing between the two of them, as if to show how much of a good job he’d done to finding her and telling Mom who he’d found.

Grace peered over her shoulder, spotting her daughter pace towards her, “Hi, sweetie!”

“Hey, Mom,” Chloe replied, not allowing her Mom to stop what she was doing as she placed two hands on the woman’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek, lest she disturb her mother in the pleasant task she was practicing. Chloe peered over at the flowers her Mom had just watered; a wealthy spread of pink Begonias, edged with blends of white that were potted on a ledge. "They're doing so well!" she praised, moving around her mother and cupping the bloom in her hand to smell it. They were sweet and delicate and Chloe took the time to embrace it, closing her eyes to void one of her senses and fall into it completely. 

“They’ll be good until at least November, hopefully,” she heard her Mom say.

Daylight sprung back into her vision and Chloe pulled away. “That’ll be good,” she said, turning around to inspect the rest of the garden, “they’re such a gorgeous color.”

The space was dotted with a spectrum of flowers, all different colors and sizes but all healthy and in full bloom. Even in the cool air the yard smelled fragrant. “How’s work been this week?” Chloe asked, one of her defaults that she questioned her Mom about each Sunday.

Her Mom was one of those sweet, older women you found working in an outdoor store, surrounded full of plants and garden furniture and various different colored pots; warm, welcoming and always with a genuine smile. She granted Chloe the same smile, “it’s been good. Claire came in with her new little boy.”

“Ohmygod she’s had him already?! I swear you only just said she was pregnant. What did they name him?”

“Noah.”

“Gosh that’s so cute. I bet he’s adorable.”

“Very cute. So well behaved, too; nothing like your brothers when they were born.”

“We both know I was the most well-behaved.”

“Well... you got away with it more often.

Chloe laughed and beamed a smile that pressed as high as the creases of her eyes. She grabbed her Mom’s free hand and gave it a squeeze, “Only because Dad let me.”

“He was too soft on you.”

“Yeah, but you never stopped him.”

Grace nodded with a smile and an extremely gentle roll of her eyes, “You’re right.”

Chloe gave the hand she held another squeeze, adding a one-sided hug along with it that was filled with fondness, “I’m going to make a cup of tea and get settled. You want one?”

“I wouldn’t say no! Chamomile, please.”

Chloe nodded and turned on her heel back to the house, removing her bag, scarf and coat before placing them over the banister at the bottom of the stairs to reveal high-waist pants and a pastel blue top that knotted the bottom at the front.

Turning the kitchen, she pulled the kettle from its stand and topped it up before returning it and flicking it on. Her Mom kept a small collection of mugs on a wooden free-standing holder that she plucked two from and set them on the counter. And then the tea...

Blue eyes darted about the kitchen, glancing from cupboard to cupboard, absently pressing a gentle finger to her lips in thought. But she was pulling up blanks, checking any containers that were left on the counters with a glance that could have been hiding the offending dried plant. 

And she knew her Mom had it. She knew it was in the house. It was _somewhere_ but its placement avoided her like an evading creature; always flying close but never touching. Breath rushed from her nose in a huff and brows knitted together.

Chloe pressed her eyes shut. “Come on,” she whispered to herself, the hand that had touched her lips now pressed into a ball, knuckles resting there instead. It had to be _somewhere_, and how ridiculous it was that she couldn’t remember. Irritation was nagging at the back of her mind but Chloe tired to press it down.

The boiling water was droning in the background and it only agitated her further, small frustration rising from her back and over her shoulders like a hot breeze. Even with them closed, her eyes tingled, bottom lip threatening to tremble as muscles urged to pull it upwards. Her chest felt like it was being tugged on by a string tied to the floor.

Chloe pulled her eyes open. She moved, pulling the furthest cupboard door open, only to be met with glasses and more mugs. Pressing it closed she repeated her action on the next one over, being met with failed attempts on each door until she reached the thin side door above the kettle itself. And in front of her the thing that her brain almost refused to recognize; a green and yellow patterned tin the stood among others that read ‘Chamomile’.

And her knuckles went a little too white as they held the handle. And her hand trembled just enough for her to notice as she picked out the tin. But she ignored it, pressing it firmly on the counter and letting the cushion of her hand rest there too.

Within a breath the moment had gone, blown between pursed lips and hidden from view. _Take a second. Collect yourself. Nobody will notice._

The kettle clicked off and Chloe continued, pouring the boiling water over the placed tea bags and watching the color seep into the mug as it swirled around, the motion inside never quite ceasing even though the cups stood still and the tea brewed.

She heard a noise to her side and looked over, watching her Mom come in from outside. And she smiled at her, even letting it touch her eyes as she looked over as though nothing had happened. A quick and silent recovery.

She handed her Mom the hot cup of Chamomile tea.

* * *

“Did Chloe tell you about the date she had yesterday?”

“Oh my god, Marco!” she looked at him from across the dinner table, eyes wide and expression smiling disbelief.

“No, she hasn’t, actually,” Grace said, taking a sip of her wine as she turned to her daughter with glistening eyes.

They'd been eating a while, her brother steaming ahead after complaining about being stuck in his Sunday meeting for too long and not being about to grab lunch beforehand. He'd already been finished a while, Grace soon caught up and Chloe not far behind. It was a savory plaited pastry, loaded with vegetables, that Chloe had worked on with her Mom since she arrived early. It had been a recipe she had wanted to try for a while after having seen it in one of the lifestyle magazines that were abandoned in the break room at work.

Chloe squinted at her brother, faux annoyance playing on her gaze before she looked at her mother, "It was just a coffee date; nothing serious so you can stop getting your hopes up. A catch up with an old friend from high school."

Her Mom’s interest was piqued, “Who with?”

“Beca Mitchell?” Chloe placed the words in the air, asking her Mom if she might know the name, because in all honesty? Chloe didn’t quite know how she expected her Mom to respond. When she’d spoken about it with Aubrey last night she (predictably) had her concerns about Beca and how legitimate her claims were. Chloe was in her best mind to mirror those concerns, but she did so with less intensity and severity. But her Mom wasn't quite so predictable. So Chloe munched on the last few vegetables she had left on her plate whilst she waited for an answer.

Grace was slightly taken aback by the name. Gentle surprise covered her face, shifting in her chair before placing the wine glass back onto the table, hand flat a top the base. "Oh, wow..." she started, "Yeah, I remember her."

"Okay, apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t!" Chloe jested with a smile.

“Yeah, even I kinda know who she is, and I wasn’t even here,” Marco added.

“How is she?” Grace asked.

Chloe grinned at her brother before answering her Mom’s previous question, “She’s good, I think. She’s staying here with her Mom for a break from work, but she lives out in LA! She works in music too.”

“This was in your last few years of high school, right? Small, dark hair?”

Chloe nodded, eating her last mouthful and setting down the cutlery.

“You two hung out quite a lot... She stayed over a couple of times too if I remember correctly, but she was always so polite and a little bit shy. Lovely girl. Did you not keep in contact during college?” Grace asked.

The question stunted her, making her hesitate and stumble across her thoughts. She knew her Mom didn’t mean anything by it; it was odd that Beca wouldn’t have tried to make contact after her accident, but on the other hand Chloe did kind of disappear for several weeks. It would be worth asking Beca why that was. She eyed her planner on the other end of the table where it had been moved to make room for the dinnerware, and leaned over to reach it. “I don’t really know. We might have done? She seemed kind of shocked when she first said anything, honestly; like she was surprised to see me there,” Chloe commented, all while pulling the pen tucked into the bound rings, flipping to the correct date and scribbling the note about Beca. She pressed it shut and looked back at her Mom.

The older woman hummed in thought, “It’s good she’s reached out to you; that must be important to her.”

“I don’t think she knew about the accident initially so that kind of makes it... better that she did? Like, she didn’t have the need to reach out out of sympathy like some people do - even if they don’t mean it - but it was genuine which is sweet.”

Grace stood to collect the empty plates, “You two were pretty close... I just assumed you went your separate ways when she left for college since you were pretty upset that day.”

Chloe hummed in thought, somewhat surprised that her Mom had mentioned she had been upset. Chloe had always been emotional, that was a given; she never shied away from feeling so completely and truthfully, so she often cried, for better or worse. But her Mom knew that. She knew what she was like and it seemed odd to Chloe that she would mention how upset she had once been. 

She tried to think what it must have been like to see Beca leaving and what that had caused inside her. And the breath in her throat hitched suddenly, a small gasp for air that made her shoulders pinch towards her ears and caused a sting in her eyes. It was like a reflex, a doctor hitting her knee and it bouncing forward of its own accord. It was like whiplash, as shocking as it was unexpected. Something deep inside her dropped, like it was being held above an open elevator shaft since forever and only now had it been let go. But she couldn't figure out _what_. The redhead coughed in attempt to hide the sudden noise and the glisten in her eyes it had caused before collecting herself, grasping back the emotions that had shot out so suddenly.

It passed unnoticed by other two beings in the house, Marco turning to follow their Mom to the kitchen and saying, "What she neglects to tell you is the fact that she stood me up for fifteen minutes because of it."

"Hey!" Chloe cried in protest, turning in her chair to look to them both in the kitchen, "In my defense, _someone_ ruined our strict Sunday meeting routine for the purpose of bettering his own career!? I mean, come on, what kind of guy does that to his little sister?"

"The kind that's going to kick your ass in training next week."

Chloe laughed, smile beaming as she forced it through the sudden heaviness inside of her, “I’m so ready for anything you throw at me.”

“Well I have to admit, I’m kind of siding with Chloe, here,” her Mom said, rinsing the food from the plates in the sink before setting them next to the dishwasher, “you clearly threw her off with your abrupt change of plans, meaning that not only did it cause you to wait a little bit longer than usual but it forced my daughter to turn up early today and deal with me for longer than necessary.”

“So I get scalded for making an effort in my career and making more time for my sister to see you? I feel like you ladies are ganging up on me.”

“If you help me tidy up I might forgive your errors...” Grace gestured to the general area with the use serving spoon.

With a roll of his eyes, Marco gave his best faux groan, “Fine, I guess.”

“And while you two have your mother-and-son bonding time, I’m going to go entertain myself for a bit,” Chloe nodded, rising from her chair and heading for the stairs at the center of the house.

The door handle to Chloe’s old room was one of those silver, circular knobs that locked from the inside but could easily be undone by a quarter on the outside.

The metal was cool and Chloe was warm, even just in her top and jeans, and she twisted the handle and pushed the door open slowly. Peering around the corner as if she was afraid of walking in on someone, despite knowing what to expect. 

Her room was not entirely empty. Boxes sat stacked in the far corner of old clothes that had been left for Goodwill - they still needed to do that - and the furniture was still resting comfortably in the carpet where it had been for years. But it was spare and still acutely clinical from her stay after the hospital. It was no longer completely and totally hers, even though several old belongings still sat within storage and her most valued things were with her at the apartment.

Chloe perched on the side of the bed, letting it bounce her lightly before it ceased. Dipped palms in her lap and pressing her eyes closed, she inhaled, allowing any lasting trails of the aroma that was her room to whelm her senses. 

When Chloe first had to remember outside of visual aids, the easiest way for her to recollect anything was thinking about movement and how it might have felt. Most of it was nothing shy of guess work but it appeared to be as accurate as she could hope for. The emotions she felt so aggressively were always connected by movement; not always just her own but of other people too. How their body took up the space it borrowed from the air around her. How, for Chloe, movement meant touch, in tune with her own body.

And she thought about what it could have been that had been dropped within her. Because it had only happened when she thought of Beca... and how that makes her feel when Chloe considered the woman as an equation; the idea of Beca _before_ plus total absence equals... an achingly heavy feeling in her gut, apparently. Or her food was sitting heavily in her stomach; she couldn’t work it out.

Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip, fingers brushing strands of loose hair from her face and turning her head to view the room in more detail. She considered why she was here of all places in the house. The sitting room was a perfectly good place to get comfortable and have a small break to herself. She remembered. Chloe knew why; she was curious. Always curious, wondering about before and what slotted into the empty spaces in her memories. They were like a window with heavy curtains drawn shut but she just couldn’t work out how to rip them open. So she was here to look, to find anything that even resembled evidence of high school.

Her Mom kept small mementos around the house; family graduation photos, any ridiculous extra-curricular awards no matter small, but she had seemed to move everything elsewhere. And the more Chloe had thought about it she realized there should be more physical evidence - work books, photos, report cards even - from high school. 

She had started under the bed, pulling the storage containers out from underneath and popping the lids off. She spent a good few minutes raking through its contents; several sheets of very old, very ridiculous drawings she'd done as a kid, some slices of homework from elementary school, old reading books and the odd toy, but little else. Her attention switched to the boxes atop the closet, standing on tip-toes to pull them off without any knowledge of how heavy they might be. The top was dusty and the flaps were folded in. Chloe dived in anyway.

It held nothing more than a few books, a dark red beanie and a stack of a few CD cases. The covers were blank bar from single numbers written in marker, one through five, but the fourth one was missing. She picked one out and flipped it over, but there was no track-list on the back. 

Frowning, she placed the discs back into the box and returned it to the top of the closet, only keeping hold of the hat; it was cute and the weather was only going to get colder. She made an attempt to look elsewhere but to no avail. Inside the closet was only filled with some spare clothes, towels and linen for the bed. It wouldn’t hurt to ask where else to look, she thought, so Chloe made her way back downstairs, stopping to tuck the hat into her coat pocket.

“Hey, Mom?” Chloe called out, feeling a tickling sense of urgency to find out where her belongings were.

“Yes, sweetie?”

Chloe rounded the corner back to the dining room, both her brother and her Mom tidying away the dry dishes. Bentley sat patiently by the archway that connected the room to the hallway, knowing what the clattering of dishes meant next. "Do you have any of my old things from high school? I've just had a look in my room and there isn't really anything in there."

Grace hesitated in thought, stalling in drying the plate she held, "Sure, but it's all in the attic. We moved it when you came back before college so you'd have more room to rest. Marco can get it out next week if it's no rush? Since we’re about to go out."

Her brother nodded in acknowledgement, letting his sister know he'd be happy to do it. Chloe smiled at him, "Awesome, thanks."

And so Chloe pulled her planner back off the table, writing down her plans for their visit next week and turning on her heel to place it back into her bag. She grabbed her coat and tugged it on, moving back to where she had come from. “You’re nearly done?” she asked, propping her elbow up against the back of the dining chair and resting her chin in her palm.

“Practically finished.”

She raised a brow and looked over at the pup, whose tail edged slowly from left to right, swishing against the hardwood floor like a broom. He looked between Chloe and their Mom, mouth opening slightly and tongue peeking out in pants of excitement. “I’m gonna say it,” Chloe warned.

“No, not yet! I need to pee first at least,” Marco protested.

“Hey, Bentley.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the name.

“Do you wanna go?”

Head tipping to the side, the dog’s tail brushed across the floor with a sharp increase in pace.

“Sis,”

“Go pee then, otherwise you’ll have someone barking at you to hurry up.”

“God, gimme a break and let a man pee in peace—”

“Bentley, wanna go on a walk?”

“Chloe!”


	12. xii

The apartment that Chloe shared with Aubrey was decently sized for how close to the city it was. It was a joint investment, a commitment they made after they graduated from college, both knowing they would go into teaching. Chloe knew she wanted to stay at home in Oregon, and Aubrey was happy to spend some time in Portland 'for now'. Chloe knew she would never say it out loud, but the reasons Aubrey stayed were twofold; first, to avoid the overbearing scrutiny of her father as the need to live up to his high expectations was far less suffocating from a thousand miles away. Secondly, though Chloe knew she would only deny it if she was asked, Aubrey still believed she had a duty of care. 

It was something that was not entirely intentional, nor was it done out of pity for Chloe, but rather a subconscious need to protect her. They had been roomed together at college, the two of them thrust forward into shared spaces. 

At college, it had been nine months since Chloe’s accident, scars still discolored her creamy skin and healing, memory still on the fritz but not half as bad as it was. It had been three months since Aubrey graduated and accepted an offer in Oregon, her father turning up at the last minute to bitterly congratulate her and remind her not to disappoint before leaving to continue on his new assignment.

But even in their first week they bonded. Or, more so, Chloe was her usual friendly self, thrusting herself so easily between those defenses people put up just by her kindness and smile _alone_. Their first year saw them adapt to their new situation; Chloe managed to understand why Aubrey came off as uptight and controlling, soon witnessing the more sensitive side of her new roommate after a particularly bad grade and a little friendly coaxing. And Aubrey was soon privy to the challenges of Chloe’s recovery - reluctant car rides, one or two bad party experiences - but the two most important; the forgetfulness (as indicated by excessive note taking) and the night terrors.

So throughout the years they helped each other through the obstacles of college and adulthood. Chloe’s bright optimism and enthusiasm for life had helped loosen Aubrey up over time, while the blond’s attention to detail and meticulous nature had helped Chloe keep track of her progress and healing. They had grown to love and protect each other fiercely in their own ways, and it made sense that they shared a living space.

Chloe hooked her apartment keys and bag on their designated hanger, a bespoke coat rack that rested far too low for any jackets to be placed on, and kicked off her shoes. She heard noise coming from the living area and peered in from the hallway, spotting a bundled mess of blond hair at the couch and the TV on. Chloe was pretty sure she was watching The Food Network.

Padding her way into the kitchen and relenting from her coat to the back of a dinner chair, Chloe made way for the refrigerator, pouring herself a glass of chilled water.

Aubrey turned at the noise, pulling eyes away from what she was half-watching on the screen before turning them back, “How was your Mom’s?”

She caught Chloe halfway through a sip, so the redhead bobbed her head before speaking. “Yeah it was good,” she said, making her way over to the couch and plonking herself down next to her best friend, “it was nice to get there early; I got to cook!”

They sat with their shoulders pressed together, the redhead void of any special boundaries the blond might still hold as Aubrey turned her head to look over. “Did you do that pastry thing you said you saw?” she asked.

Chloe nodded again in response, explaining how well it went down and that unfortunately she could offer no leftovers for her roommate.

Aubrey waved her empty offer away, still appreciating the fact Chloe even had the thought to try and save her some. "So you were okay with going there early? It didn't throw you off or anything?" Aubrey asked intently. She was prone to worry, Chloe knew that, and still she smiled at her softly with creases cornering her eyes. 

"No, Bree," she started, resting her head on the woman's shoulders, letting the rise and fall of her breathing settle the redhead into the rhythm of the room, “it was totally cool. I got to spend a bit more time with Mom which was nice and I got to see our next door neighbor.”

And Chloe let a silence hang in the air for a short while after Bree nodded. She knew she should probably tell her about the little slip up with the tea earlier today, but Chloe knew it had likely been just an honest mistake, right...? 

Except it wasn’t. The same panic grasped like a hand on the back of her neck, uncertainty boiling at the pit of her stomach as she had ran through her standard elimination process. So her awkwardness translated to her finger, stroking the back of Aubrey’s bicep with her knuckle, and a tuck of her bottom lip underneath her teeth.

“Okay, so... there might have been a small slip up...” Chloe said quietly, looking up at Bree with the best example of puppy dog eyes she could muster.

The blond pulled herself away, Chloe’s head falling from her shoulder, catching it quickly before it went any further but still maintaining the eyes. Aubrey stared at her, expecting a follow up that never came until she was about to speak.

“And before you say anything, Bree, it was a simple, honest mistake that could have been exactly that; a mistake,” Chloe explained, grabbing the hand that was nearest and pressing it between two palms, “but... it’s entirely likely that it wasn’t?” And with that she squinted slightly, raising her shoulder to meet her ear and almost brace herself in preparation of Aubrey’s response.

“Chloe!” the blond exasperated brashly, “You know you need to tell me as soon as things like this happen.” Aubrey pushed herself up from the couch despite Chloe’s protest as she clung to her hand, and moved forward to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Bree. Honestly, I’m fine, don’t worr—”

“Nope,” Aubrey held up a hand, “No. I don’t want to hear it. We have to keep track of these things. How are we supposed to know if you’re getting better?” The taller woman reached for a small bound book tucked on the top shelf above the open rack of stacked glasses. It was lightly worn, corners scuffed with a stretch of elastic across it, holding a pen and pressing the covers together. She flipped it open, flicking to the day’s date and writing down the first of her notes. “Ok, what was it this time?” Aubrey asked, turning on her heel and walking back.

Chloe sighed in defeat, “Bree, I promise it’s nothing serious.”

Reclaiming her space, Aubrey tucked a leg underneath her and sat back down to face her roommate. “Chloe. You and I both know that doesn’t matter. It’s about consistency and keeping it on record to see if there’s any kind of pattern, and if so, what we can do to address it,” she pressed, shoulders trying to relax as she ducked her head to try and sweeten the situation for Chloe, her own eyes caked in caring and a gentleness that the redhead knew not many had the pleasure of seeing. And she knew Aubrey was only trying to help. This way they could ‘track any memory loss and its frequency, severity and analyse it for potential patterns’. It was the only way Bree had left to help anymore, since Chloe had made such a... well-documented recovery thanks to her (even Chloe's doctor had been impressed with Aubrey's notes), and her independence had been reclaimed. 

So Chloe relented and apologized for not mentioning it sooner, admitting defeat and describing the experience to her roommate as she scribbled down in the black book. The blond pressed it closed and placed it on the coffee table next to them. She ignored the sound from the television behind her, resting palms in her lap and speaking, "I'm sorry, I just--... Thank you for telling me."

The redhead placed her hands on Aubrey's knees, "Thank you for always looking out for me, Bree. I just don't want you to worry."

"I don't worry. I'm just occasionally concerned."

Chloe laughed, squeezing her friend's knee before attempting to push their conversation in another direction, asking, "How was your afternoon?"

Aubrey allowed herself to go along with it, releasing the tension she had immediately packed into her shoulders when questioning Chloe with a short exhale. “It was... a regular Sunday, really. I did my morning cardio and some laundry before going to tennis with the girls, and Stacie and I got coffee after. Gabbed about boys for a bit, did everything your usual twenty-something woman might do."

"Ugh, you're so ordinary," Chloe grimaced in faux disgust.

"I'm trying to blend in, Chloe, and you can't break my cover," Aubrey poked a finger into the side of Chloe's arm, taking it as an opportunity to stand and move the book back to its designated space in the kitchen. She didn't return immediately. Instead she pulled two wine glasses from the rack and crossed to the fridge for the bottle of wine that sat inside the door.

“So what boys did you gab over?”

Aubrey bumped the door closed with her hip and headed back over to pour them both a glass. She shrugged half-heartedly, “Just a few from the acapella group.”

“Yeah? Like who?” Chloe pried, watching the blonde reclaim her seat next to her.

“Just, like, the hot ones, obviously.”

“Like Unicycle?”

“He was one of them, yes.”

“And you were talking about this with Stacie?”

Aubrey huffed, clearly exasperated at Chloe’s persistent questions, “As we’ve already established, yes.”

Humming in thought, the redhead picked up her glass, “And did you initiate this conversation or did Stacie?”

“I don’t really understand what you’re trying to get at, Chloe; it was a perfectly honest, friendly conversation about some hot guys that Stacie initiated as we got coffee. I don’t see why that’s so important.”

Chloe shook her head and shrugged, “It’s not, I just like to know these things.” Taking a sip of wine, she watched Aubrey’s somewhat irritated expression over the top of her glass. Chloe’s eyes glistened and the beginning of a smile pulled at the corner of her lip.

“Does Stacie ever ask you about hot girls?”

“_Chloe!_” Aubrey turned, shocked.

“What?! I’m just asking! Like, you know Stacie swings, right?”

“What Stacie does in her own time is none of my business.”

“Oh, absolutely! I just think it’s odd she never asks you about girls, like she thinks you’re straight. But we both know you’re not the stiffest noodle in the pot.”

She turned away to face the television set, “Ohmygod, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Aw, Bree, come on! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Look,” she said, placing her glass back on the table and reaching for the blond’s hand, “you know I wouldn’t judge you, and anyone who gets you as their girlfriend is gonna be the luckiest person on the planet. You’re hot, okay?”

“Chloe—”

“For real! I’m serious. You’re in excellent shape with a hot ass bod and crazy pretty. Stacie wouldn’t spend so much time with you if she wasn’t into you at least a little bit.”

“And what about _your_ love life?”

“You know Tom and I didn’t work out.”

“Oh, ‘capital F’ friend doesn’t count?”

“Nope, since he’s not the big ‘F’ anymore.”

“Fine. Well what about your lack thereof, then?”

“I have a like life that is suiting me just fine, thank you, Bree. Plus I have you; at this point you’re basically my wife since you look after me so well.”

The statement cracked a small grin to Aubrey’s face, like she was reluctant to let Chloe win but she somehow managed it anyway, “Yeah? Well you should be shutting up and doing your planner.”

Chloe laughed and nodded, holding her hands up. “Okay, okay. I will,” she started, standing to leave to get her bag, “I still think you and Stacie would be a cute couple.”

“Chloe!” Aubrey exclaimed, exasperated and sharpening her posture enough that caused Chloe to giggle and quickly press several paces away as if she might run after her.

Reaching her bag, she pulled out her planner and her cell, along with the hat she’d taken from her Mom’s. Pacing back, she checked her phone for any missed calls or messages.

** _Beca (15:33):  
_** _Your mom has a dog now?_

Chloe smiled to herself at the sight of the text.

** _Chloe (19:58):  
_** _Yep! he’s called Bentley and is a golden retriever. enjoys long walks in the park and has a particular interest in chasing after balls you throw and bringing them back without question._

Texting and walking back to the open living space, she pulled a small craft box out from underneath the coffee table and took a seat on the floor, cross-legged in the direction of the TV. “Is there anything worth watching on the DVR?” she asked.

Aubrey, assuming a similar position to the one Chloe had walked in on earlier, grabbed the remote, “we have Grey’s to catch up with.”

“I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that,” Chloe confessed with a laugh.

“Are we ever?”

“Never.”

Chloe’s phone buzzed.

** _Beca (20:03):  
_** _A pretty regular dog, then._

** _Chloe (20:03):  
_ ** _for sure_

** _Beca (20:07):  
_** _Did you have a good time?_

** _Chloe (20:07):  
_** _at my mom’s?_

** _Beca (20:07):  
_** _Yeah._

** _Chloe (20:08):  
_** _yes, it was nice. couldn’t find any dirt on you though. all my old stuff is in the attic._

** _Beca (20:08):  
_** _You were trying to dig dirt on me?_

** _Chloe (20:09):  
_** _I told you I was going to look at my mom’s for some stuff_

** _Beca (20:10):  
_** _Yeah but that’s different to trying to get dirt on me. I might be offended but I’m confident you won’t find anything._

** _Chloe (20:10):  
_** _is that a challenge?_

** _Beca (20:11):  
_** _No._

** _Chloe (20:11):  
_** _challenge accepted_

** _Beca (20:12):  
_** _It’ll be pointless but whatever_

** _Chloe (20:12):  
_** _we’ll see about that._

“Chloe?”

She looked up to the sound of her name, “Yeah, Bree?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

The redhead grimaced, pausing to check the TV set to see if it left any clue on what they’d decided to watch. Chloe bunches up her shoulders tentatively, “...no?”

“Great. Well, we’re watching Scandal whether you like it or not.”

“What?! No, no, no, Bree! I haven’t seen last week’s yet!”

Aubrey simply shrugged and pressed the remote, “Not my problem. Consider it your punishment for being attached to your phone.”


	13. xiii

_“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”_

_“Hey, I can be a badass too!”_

_Beca watched Chloe shimmy herself up the drainpipe, her footing as calculated as she been had instructed. “Yeah, a super dorky badass,” she replied, a coy smile on her mouth that flashed teeth. She reached out a hand to the other girl from above._

_The redhead huffed a laugh and shook her head lightly, usual curls trapped beneath a dark beanie that caused them to resist its familiar bounce. Spotting Beca’s hand, she grabbed it and let the smaller of them help hoist her up. “When you grow up with two older brothers like Ben and Marco, you learn to follow through on a dare,” she said, “and I can’t give you more fuel to tease me with.”_

_The chill on the night air was accompanied by a cloudless sky, a near full moon shining brighter than usual. Or maybe Beca was more aware, feeling the creamy light on her skin like everything mattered. The freshness of the air and the warmth of her clothes both hugged her, nose and ears pink with cold. They hadn’t been outside long, but the biting difference of the mild warmth of her beat up car and the early winter air had made her shiver._

_Chloe’s nose was pink too. Beca knew she wore it better._

_“You say that like I don’t have enough already.”_

_“Yeah, and you don’t need more!”_

_Beca watched Chloe get her footing, uttering, “Careful,” as she shimmed across the roof tiles to allow the redhead more room to move. They hadn’t let go of each other’s hand and Beca steadied her, guiding her upwards to the peak of the roof, to her best viewing spot._

_“I need some dirt on you too,_ Rebecca_,” Chloe played._

_The brunette retreated her hand, stopping dead in her tracks and turned to face her friend, expression almost deadpan but lightly offended, “Dude. Don’t make me push you. That’s not my name.”_

_“One day I’ll have proof. I’ll have your birth certificate sooner or later. Your Mom is already sweet on me, I should just ask.”_

_“Just... sit the fuck down.”_

_Chloe beamed, glowing as bright as the moon and laughed. And it was music to her ears and pulled a reluctant smile to Beca’s face as though just the sound was contagious. She watched her sit, butt perched onto the roof peak, knees bent and shoes flat against the sloping tiles. _

_Chloe wore a combination of her own and Beca’s clothes. What she wasn’t wearing of her own were dirty from the day prior; they’d both taken a trek through Council Crest Park - much to Chloe’s insistence and Beca’s displeasure - and got rained on at the furthest point from the car. The bare trees had offered little cover, and even though they shared a small jacket as a makeshift umbrella, the two of them were soaked through to the skin and muddy well before making it back anywhere near the car. _

_Beca had asked if she wanted her to drive her home, have a shower and grab a change of clothes before heading back to her own house, but the redhead had been set on not going home, inviting herself over for the night in that way she did so easily; like she was telling and asking all at once, knowing Beca would never say no but not wanting to let her miss the opportunity if she ever did. It was considerate and kind and just the perfect amount of disguised, faux control that Beca needed._

_So Chloe sat there in her own jeans and own muddied shoes, but Beca’s everything else. _

_Even down to the aroma of shampoo she had radiated that morning when they both awoke, comfortable and warm at that beautiful balance between awake and asleep. Beca had been tucked into Chloe’s shoulder with small hands circling her own nose, absentmindedly pressed against her side in her sleep as Chloe rested flat on her back, one arm above her head and the other flat across her waist and bunching what fabric of Beca’s top she could grasp. But Beca couldn’t remember who was awake first._

_Beca took the space next to the redhead but Chloe pressed herself closer. “I mean I can’t blame her,” she continued, shimming until she was in a comfortable spot, “everyone says I’m a delight.”_

_“Yeah, a delightful pain in my ass.”_

_“You love it.”_

_And Beca didn’t protest. She simply rolled her eyes and shook her head._

_“So is this all I’ve climbed up here for?” Chloe asked, gesturing towards the city skyline and shrugging._

_“Oh, sure. I just wanted to see if you could make it up a tree and half a drain pipe. I won’t mention the easy route that’s just straight out of my bedroom window.”_

_Red curls flew dramatically, Chloe turning to stare at girl beside her, “there was an easier way up?!”_

_“Okay, the whole fucking neighborhood doesn’t need to know that.”_

_Chloe turned to the view again, “I can’t believe you’ve put me through this. It’s a good job we’re friends otherwise I’d be out of here.”_

_“Well, you know for next time,” Beca shrugged nonchalantly._

_“There better be a next time.”_

_“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” she replied, pulling a well-worn packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She’d won them off a jock (along with his pride) after beating him at a game of beer pong at a house party beginning of winter break. They were a part of Beca’s teen rebellion against her Mom and the rest of the world. Lighting it, she inhaled and grimaced past the bitter, stale taste. The cloud she exhaled curled in front of them, taking its time to disappear into the night._

_“Can I, like... bum one?” she heard Chloe ask._

_“Uh, sure? I thought you didn’t like smoking.”_

_“Not entirely as a whole, no, but I can’t hate on something I haven’t even tried before, can I?”_

_“I guess,” Beca admitted, handing the cigarette over._

_Chloe attempted inhalation and survived a mere few seconds before coughing and suffering from watery eyes. _

_Beca couldn’t help but laugh and Chloe, in her fit of spluttering coughs, bumped against her shoulder, “shut up.”_

_“Sorry, it’s just funny,” the brunette replied, running a relaxed hand through her hair as she allowed Chloe to recover. “Here, try again,” she began, turning to face her, “except, instead of just breathing it all in, take a small breath in first before you inhale and then use your diaphragm, rather than just your lungs. It’s like breath control for singing.”_

_Chloe squinted at her in suspicion, to which Beca simply nodded and watched her try again. The second attempt was better, Beca watching as the redhead tried in practice what they had discussed, but Chloe still ended up coughing. Just not as aggressively as the first time. _

_She balked and handed the smoke back over. “Yeah, I still don’t get the appeal. I mean, apart from making you look sexy,” she said, getting herself comfortable again as she recovered from her ordeal._

_“You’ve just not had enough practice. I’ve had a year of self-loathing and teen angst to really get me going. You’re just... too pretty to need to smoke.”_

_“You think I’m pretty?”_

_Beca shook her head again and rolled her eyes once more, “Dude, you know what I mean. Besides, weed’s better.”_

_Taking one long, last drag, Beca flicked the butt off one side of the roof and pressed her hands into her jacket pockets to warm them up._

_The two of them were quiet for a short while, the redhead taking in the view of the city in the distance and the other buildings nearby for the first time with blue eyes, and Beca watching her witness it. She was happy to share it with her - to boast about it - her special place. Their’s._

_Eyes still glued to the distance, Chloe shook her head so gently it was hard to tell there was any movement at all, “I can’t believe it’s senior year already.”_

_“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.”_

_“I feel like you’ve been here since freshman year...” Chloe mused, thinking aloud, “I mean, I know you haven’t, but, like... your first day feels like years ago and I feel like we’ve been friends forever.”_

_“I mean, it’s only been about a year and a half—...”_

_“I know, Bec, but... I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t moved.”_

_“Well, you can thank my parents’ failed marriage for that. And come on, you would have been totally fine.”_

_At this Chloe turned, knees bumping Beca’s thighs and a hand grabbing her wrist. Beca’s eyes flitted between the delicate fingers wrapped around her arm and Chloe’s eyes, still gleaming but there was something else in the way they moved less animatedly as Beca was used to. Her brows creased slightly and a bubble of concern grew in her stomach. But Chloe’s hand calmed it._

_“I’m just... I’m glad we met and I know it sounds so awful, but I’m glad your parents broke up because it meant I got to know... you,” she finished with a squeeze to Beca’s arm._

_Eyes cast down, the corner of her mouth pulled upward, creases in her skin showing and she could feel a pale blue gaze on her. Loose hair had fallen forward, covering her face in a way that didn’t matter because she knew Chloe could tell what her expression was saying despite it being hidden._

_And something brushed the side of her face, soft and gentle, pushing fallen hair back behind her ear. In the seconds she had last glanced at Chloe and allowed her gaze to fall away, the look in her eyes had changed. Blown pupils surrounded by that ring of daytime sky glistened, fiery hair and gentle skin providing the sun’s glow that made Beca feel like she was in the height of summer despite the darkness of the night. And her mouth was parted hardly at all with a small glimpse of teeth peaking through, but it was enough to know Chloe was holding her breath._

_Put Beca in the same situation a year ago and she would have torn away, anxiety crawling up her back and her fight or flight response kicking in. Hell, even being alone with anyone like they were right now would have triggered it. _

_But Chloe was the exception. She had been unexpected, the breakbeat in a song that just shouldn’t go together but it_ did_._ _One_ _of those gems that gets stumbled upon and it’s astounding it hasn’t been used before._

_The sight made her heart pound in her ears, deafening and absolute. Chloe’s fingertips on her face were a weight that was not uncomfortable but welcome, burning through the cold and straight to her insides._

_They looked at each other, eye contact ripping through them as they took in what was in front. Complete beings, messy and flawed and beautiful and whole._

_“Chlo, I—...”_

_The sound of Beca’s wavering voice tore a smile onto Chloe’s face that was so brilliant it was undeniable, her eyes shining blue and Beca was sure they were watering. _

_Her hand left Beca’s wrist and joined at the other side of the brunette’s face. Thumbs stroked the edge of her cheekbones and the smile receded to something more quiet, more personal, and blues darted about, taking her in._

_And like a force pulling her forward, Beca pressed her lips to Chloe’s without second thought. It was as if all the oxygen had vanished from the world and Beca couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. But something clicked as soon as their skin touched and she tore away._

_Shocked at herself, Beca pulled her face from Chloe’s hands and turned forward, holding her hands up, “I-I’m sorry, that was totally uncool of me to do that, I should have asked and even then I shouldn’t have assumed—”_

_“Again.”_

_Breath hitched in her throat as she gasped for air. “What?” she asked, unsure if she heard Chloe correctly._

_“Kiss me again.”_

_“Don’t feel like you have to do it again just because—”_

_“Beca,” Chloe whispered, inching closer and hands reaching for the collar of her jacket, “Kiss me.”_

_“If you’re su—”_

_And Chloe had enough of the delays, pulling Beca to her by her jacket and kissing her, slowly and tenderly and with shoulders bunched as she inhaled the brunette’s smell through her nose like the touch wasn’t enough._

_Beca’s hands rested at Chloe’s hips, awkward and unsure on where to go, but Chloe’s hands? Chloe’s were placed perfectly, rising from her jacket to her neck and resting at the nape, fingers pressed into dark hair._

_Chloe made movement to leave but Beca pursued her, chasing soft lips as cold noses pressed against each other’s skin. _

_And it didn’t matter. The cold didn’t matter and the night didn’t matter because the moment was the warmest that Beca had felt in her entire life, like her chest would burst just_ feeling_ and that was okay._

_Pressing her forehead against Beca’s, Chloe pulled apart with small distance between them and let out a breathy chuckle. And it was Beca’s time to beam a grin at the sound and laugh along with her._

_Nothing needed to be said because they both knew it was okay. The moment they shared was okay. And Chloe shifted her body, turning back to the view and rested her head on the brunette’s shoulders. She pulled her arm between them and grasped Beca’s hand, threading fingers between each other and holding on. “Thank you for bringing me up here,” she said._

_Beca had barely recovered from what had happened so she just nodded and allowed Chloe to occupy her space. “No biggie,” she replied with a soft shrug._

_The pair stayed that way, refusing to move, Beca allowing the warmth of the body beside creep into her and commanding her heart to cease its frantic beating. They admired the view for a while, letting the quiet of the night isolate them and the glow of the city lights on the horizon accompany them. Settled in their own company, there was nowhere else they’d both rather be._

_“My Dad’s got me spot at Barden. In Georgia. It's free tuition...” Beca blurted out, eyes still stuck to the horizon._

_Something in the air shifted. It attempted to settle but there were minor vibrations underneath, like it was blanketed._

_“Okay,” Chloe spoke after a long pause. They’d already spoken about college but_ _after tonight..._

_“Okay?” Beca repeated._

_“Yeah. We’ll be okay,” the redhead confirmed, allowing Beca the decision she needed to make._

_The brunette nodded slowly in understanding. And though the vibrations in the air were still there, it was fine to let them be. They would calm after time, and they still had plenty of that left; they still had time before she left for college and they’d figure it out. “...okay.”_

_It was a conversation for a different day. But they shared the evening - the perfect winter evening - and it was a night that Beca knew she wouldn’t forget._

_And she knew Chloe wouldn’t either._


	14. xiv

It was not a text Beca wanted to wake up to on a Wednesday morning.

** _Dax (07:42):  
_ ** _need u on conference call @ 9_

It was already eight-thirty, her record of decent lie-ins slowly increasing, and she was reluctant enough as it was to get out of bed. She stared at her phone for several minutes, urging the bright screen to drag her out of sleep and burning away the remnants of whatever thin dream she’d had in the night.

Hauling herself out of bed, she put on a bra and dressed into something mildly decent. Most of her colleagues had seen her in worse before, but Beca had no desire to repeat questionable clothes choices in front of them again; at least this time she wasn’t hungover.

So she pulled on a slouch tee and an over-sized, heavy thread cardigan to keep her warm, accompanied by sweats and socks. Pulling her hair into a messy bun, she left strands loose to frame her face before grabbing her laptop and phone from the desk and heading downstairs.

Placing her stuff on the kitchen counter, Beca made way to the coffee machine. The black liquid sat in its pot but it was cold. Her Mom wasn’t about so she must have already gone out, Beca concluded.

Switching on the machine and clearing the filter to refill it, she emptied the pot and waited for it to work its magic. She prised open the lid of her Mac, signing in to Skype and joining their usual conference channel. It wasn’t long before the ringing powered through the speakers and Beca answered. Dax’s face popped up on the screen, alongside Beca’s own in a small box in the corner.

“Dude,” Beca started, shoulders high and hands held out in gesture, “You're so lucky I'm still on Pacific hours. Also: what the fuck? I’m on vacation which means no work.”

“I know, I know, Beca. And I’m really sorry but this is too important to not have you involved in.”

“Fine. But don’t think I’m happy about this,” she said, wagging an index finger at the screen before turning to sort her coffee, “I’m not hanging around if I’m jus—”

“Look, I’m just gonna warn you now; it’s not good. We’re just waiting on Mickey and Dianne.”

She turned back to the screen, coffee pot in one hand a mug in the other, “Dianne? Like... _Dianne_ Dianne? Publicist Dianne?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! Great. This is... perfect,” she deadpanned. Beca poured her coffee as she collected her thoughts. If their publicist was involved it was either for something very good or very bad, and since Dax had already given her the heads up... she knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Mickey buzzed in, alongside Dianne - a forty-something blonde pinned into a suit - who was sat beside him as their faces popped up on screen with the other two.

Beca didn’t realize quite how much she hadn’t missed his face; she was relieved, in fact, that she hadn’t had to talk to him for several weeks. Her shoulders tensed and posture shot sharp like a knife, and the familiar discontent trembled in the pit of her stomach.

“Morning, everyone. Thanks for joining us, Beca; it’s good to see you.”

“Can’t say the same about you. What’s this about, Mickey?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

Mickey hesitated before starting but the silence felt long and heavy. She was about to urge him on when he spoke, “We had three of our top signers leave us yesterday. They’ve left us for either Virgin or Capitol Records, effective immediately and their lawyers are demanding a payout for each of them—”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “Who did we lose?”

Mickey and Dianne looked at each other, Dax’s attention drawn from his laptop and shaking his head to someone else who was clearly in whatever room he was in.

“Ella, Capitol Cities and Hayley.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Dianne piped up.

Pushing hands across her face and pinning the loose strands of hair beneath them, Beca held her head as she tried to process the information. She let out a shaky breath.

They were the label’s biggest artists - their best sellers - and if they had left then the rest were sure to follow. She knew there had been whispers but she didn’t expect it to actually _happen_. And the payouts the lawyers were demanding, regardless of just how much it was? They couldn’t afford it.

“I have my own legal team working on this and we’re going in to negotiations with them beginning next week to try and buy some time on the handouts. Realistically they’ll probably give us until the new year to sort everything but we’re going to push for a March deadline,” Dianne droned in the background while Beca let thoughts rattle about her brain.

She could lose her job. She was _probably_ going to lose her job. She had worked so hard for this. Where she was before the drama was next to perfect, everything she had dreamed about.

Three months to get this fixed. They couldn’t afford this. They couldn’t afford one payout right now, let alone _three_. The label had struggled enough as it is with the drama and it was all fucking Mickey’s fault. The distaste that has bubbled in her stomach earlier boiled over, clawing up her insides and into her throat were it lodged like a fist, punching to be released.

“I’ve been gone, what? Barely three weeks and this happens? And we’re all suffering because of this? When clearly it’s Mickey’s fault because he couldn’t be a decent ass guy and keep his hands off some fucking _girl?!”_

“Okay, lets be nice, now. There’s two guilty parties in this, Beca, and Carlie—”

“No, dude. I don’t care. I’m done being nice about it. You should have been the one to say no because you had a fucking business to look after. I took enough shit trying to keep a lid on the whole thing when it happened and now we’re _all_ being punished? What did you think was going to happen, Mickey?! Your wife wouldn’t find out that you were making out with one of the most popular up-and-coming artists of the year? In LA? Where there’s paparazzi in every fucking bush? Like, jesus. We can’t afford this!”

“Not right now, but we have the new season coming up for the end of the year and we’ve got several releases lined up that are going to help—”

“Ohmygod, you just don’t get it, do you?”

“Bec...” Dax piped up finally.

“What? How are you not mad about this? And how could you not have told me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to find out over text because that would have been shitty, and they only told us yesterday afternoon so we had to try and sort ourselves out.”

She couldn’t be mad at Dax for that. But _fuck_ she was still mad. It was itching at every fiber of her body, crawling all over her skin and it made her uncomfortable beyond words.

Dianne took the pause as her chance to speak, “Look, the worst thing right now is this getting to the press if it hasn’t already. We need to control what’s being said. Beca, I can’t expect you to front this again, especially since you’re on vacation, so Mickey’s agreed to take full responsibility.”

Beca nodded, tight lipped and not daring to speak unless something else vicious spat out.

“If we run out of time and can’t get a deal together, the very worst situation is the label will have to file for bankruptcy.”

The tension in her shoulders increased tenfold. She felt like she was going to throw up. Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse it was all blowing up in her face and she couldn’t do anything stop it. Dianne was still talking but Beca wasn’t listening. She couldn’t. Nothing she was saying could be processed.

Looking for another job straight away was out of the question; it would raise suspicion if she began asking for job vacancies or calling in a few favors. But she still couldn’t make a beat worth listening to. And right now she didn’t even want to think about it, something gripping her motivation and inspiration in a vice hold and taunting her with it, just out of reach.

She could drive back to LA straight away but what good would it do?

The call was over before she could think coherently, screen blank, only to be disturbed by the notice of Dax calling from their own private chat. She let it ring before her brain kicked into gear and clicked the trackpad to answer.

“Bec?”

An attempt was made to push away her sudden paralysis, rubbing her face and pushing leftover sleep from her eyes. “Yep?” she asked.

“Look, I know this is bad—”

“Understatement of the year,” she bit, finally picking up her coffee to take a mouthful, but it was lukewarm and disappointing.

“I get it. We didn’t see this coming either and it’s shit timing that it’s all happened while you’re not here but you need a rest and a break,” he continued, serious. And that was a bad sign, too, if Dax was somber.

She visibly shrugged, enough that it translated through the webcam and Dax sighed. “How many people know about this?”

“Other than us three and the legal team?”

“Yeah.”

Dax paused, averting his eyes from the screen and back again, “Emily?”

Brows hiked up her forehead in surprise, eyes wide and posture shifted, “What?!”

“Hey, Beca,” came a nervous and distant voice from the speakers. The picture on the screen wobbled as the laptop was being handed over and the face of the young woman appeared on screen. She smiled softly and gave a little wave.

“How did you find out?”

“I was with Dax when he found out.”

“Shit. And you totally heard me going off at Mickey, didn’t you?” Beca asked, covering her face out of embarrassment.

“Uh, I mean... I only heard _some_ of it—”

“Great,” she moaned, pulling her hands and running them down her face.

“B-But I mean he totally deserved it! You shouldn’t be expected to take control of this again, since it’s his fault anyway. You really took the fall for everyone here, Beca, and we can’t expect it from you again. Everyone really appreciates it.”

Emily always had a way of easing her mood. Beca had a need to remain professional in front of her, since she was the reason Emily got signed with them in the first place, and she’d felt responsible for her ever since.

“Thanks, Legacy.”

Dax popped into frame next to the brunette, “I know this is a lot to take in right now and I’ll keep my ear out, but you might need to come up with an action plan. We all will. It’ll get to the press soon enough but we know how to cope with them, we just might have to start looking elsewhere for opportunities.”

“I mean — and this was just some ideas we were throwing around earlier — but Dax and I think you’d do really well on your own, Beca. N-Not like on your _own _own, but, like, your own company? Or something,” Emily added, nervous as though she might be saying the wrong thing.

Beca couldn’t help but let out a scoff of laughter, “Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?” Dax asked.

“Because, dude, that takes a lot of money that I don’t have right now, nor will I any time soon the way this situation is going. Plus, I have no experience running a company, let alone know the legal stuff.”

“Just... think about it, okay? I’ll even fly over if you need to talk it out if you’ll even consider it.”

“Dax, no. It’s fine.”

“I’m meeting with Mickey and Dianne later at her office so we’ll figure out something then. Nobody knows you’re on vacation so we’ll make a good effort to try and keep you away from the situation as best we can, but just keep an eye open; you know what the media’s like.”

“Fucking ruthless,” Beca grumbled.

“I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“Beca?” she heard a voice ask and pulled her eyes back to the screen. Emily looked over with a gentle expression, eyes soft with care, “Just try and enjoy your time off, okay?”

The woman pressed her lips together and nodded sullenly, giving a half enthusiastic thumbs-up, “Sure will try.”

“We’ll see you later, Bec,” Dax said, offering a goodbye before signing off.

The room was quiet. The only sound the subtle whirring of the refrigerator in the background. She stared at the dull screen of her laptop trying to figure out what she was going to do.

When her Mom came home, about forty-five minutes later, Beca was sat at the piano with hands in her lap. Her half-full cup of coffee remained on the counter, cold and resting next to her laptop.

Kathy carried in a bag of groceries and set them down in the kitchen, spotting Beca as she walked in, “You’re up! I thought I’d let you rest since you weren’t downstairs yet.” 

“Well, I’m definitely awake now,” the brunette said, dejected and bitter. She wished she hadn’t woken up that morning at all, to be left in yesterday.

Inspecting the cup of coffee left cluttering the counter, Kathy guessed something wasn’t right immediately, “Without the help of your coffee? Something’s up.”

“Oh, just, you know, the usual stuff,” Beca said, shrugging, “Your boss telling you the company is being sued by not one but _three_ artists and that it’s likely you’re gonna lose your job before the New Year because the label will go bankrupt. But enough about my day, how’s yours going?”

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry,” Kathy said, moving towards the piano. Beca skooched up her seat to allow her Mom enough room to sit down next to her. She took a seat next to her daughter, “Do you want a hug?”

“No.”

“Okay, good; at least we know you’re not completely in shock. When did this happen?”

“Yesterday, apparently, but I didn’t find out until this morning so fuck knows what else is going to happen as well.”

“At least they told you this time, unlike the mess of the affair. I hope they don’t expect you take the fall for this one, too, because if they do I’ll tell them myself they need to change their minds.”

Beca stared down at her hands and her foot tapped at the leg of the piano that was pressed against the dented wall. An old habit. “Thankfully not. Mickey’s taking the front of it, but I’d be surprised if he didn’t fire me before anything happened, since I practically bit his head off when I found out.”

“You know as well as I do you are within every right to be mad at him. You could have sued his ass before now.”

Beca looked up, straining a brow at her mother, “When did you become such a Lawyer-Mom?”

“When my baby girl grew up and had to go live on her own several states away, leaving her frail old mother to fend for herself,” Kathy said, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and hugging her lopsidedly.

“Gross. And that same daughter still doesn’t enjoy forced intimacy so...”

“Fine,” her Mom relented and let go, “Could you at least do me the favor of not kicking the piano? I’ve already had that wall re-plastered twice and I know I need to do it a third time, but don’t make it a harder job for me? You love me, right?”

Throwing her head back, Beca groaned sarcasm as she uttered, “Fine.”

“Just... let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

Beca simply nodded, allowing her Mom to leave and finish putting the odd bits she got from grocery shopping.

“But since we’re talking and you’re being a bit more forthcoming than usual; how was it meeting up with Chloe again?”

She paused, half smiling to herself like she should have seen it coming, because of course her Mom would want to talk about it with her _now_. Now while her guard was down and where she needed the distraction of something less intense. Beca poked the edge of one of the ivory keys, “It was okay.”

Kathy stopped and turned to face her daughter from across the room, “Just ‘okay’?”

“Well, yeah... I mean it was weird since it’s like meeting someone for the first time and you have to introduce yourself all over again, but...” Beca shrugged and gave an unwillingly heavy sigh, “it was okay.”

She didn’t know if her Mom would get it. If she would get quite how odd the situation had been for Beca, when you’re re-introducing yourself to someone who knew you so well, who knew your secrets. Even the ones protected by iron and bound by a shroud of white lies to throw everyone off.

“How did you manage to meet up?”

“I ran into her at Starbucks again after the whole grocery store incident. And since it’s Chloe we got talking, I gave her my number if she wanted to meet up again and she texted me the next morning.”

“What was it like catching up?”

The question was innocent, blasé. But Beca realized quickly that she hadn’t mentioned to her Mom about Chloe’s memory loss. Kathy wasn’t even aware of what kind of recovery Chloe had to go through and what kind of weight even the mere thought gave Beca in her chest. And Beca avoided the total truth; she knew she wasn’t emotionally capable of experiencing her Mom sympathize with her after the morning she’d had.

“Yeah it was cool. Chloe finished college and is working as a teaching assistant for music now, which is pretty cool. And she’s living with her old college roommate in Portland which is also... pretty cool...”

“Invite her over.”

Beca turned from her distraction at the piano, almost shocked at her Mom’s response and panic setting in as possibilities of the scenario pounded through her head, “I-I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Well, why not? 

“She’s just super busy. With work. And stuff,” Beca returned, thumbing the wood of the piano like there was a stain that needed to be rid of.

“Okay, well if you manage to actually pluck up the courage to ever ask her over then you’re more than welcome to. She used to practically live here so it’s not like she hasn’t made herself at home before.”

Beca simply nodded, still continuing to play with the piano without making a sound on it. Her Mom finished sorting the groceries away before doing anything else, tins tucked into cupboards and fresh foods stores in the refrigerator.

“I do have some lessons today but you’re more than welcome to sit in for one or two if you like? I noticed you’ve not played anything since you’ve been home so I thought it might help to get you in the mood.”

Standing from the stool, Beca made way to grab her laptop and head upstairs. “Yeah, maybe,” she said, leaving to pace up the stairs and decide what to do next, “Thanks.” 

She could shower, she thought, but she had half a mind to get back into bed and try and sleep. She didn’t feel like doing much of anything anyway.

* * *

For the second time that day, her phone was the thing to drag her awake. It had pinged at some point in the afternoon, the warped sense of time she held in her sleep made Beca think it had only just gone off, but when she checked the time stamp it was at least twenty minutes ago.

** _Chloe (12:46):  
_** _still waiting on that ball_

Beca squinted, her drowsy state making no connections in her brain to what Chloe meant. She tapped the keys of her phone as she typed back. 

** _Beca (13:11):  
_**_Whajt ball????_

** _Beca (13:11):  
_** _Sorry — what ball?_

Pressing her eyes closed again she tried to gather her thoughts. The events of the morning barrelled to the forefront and the brunette let out a huff and kept her eyes pressed shut. She wasn’t okay to deal with this yet.

Her phone pinged and vibrated in her hand, so she peeled a single eye open.

** _Chloe (13:14):  
_** _the metaphorical ball I threw to your metaphorical court last week? we’ve been texting but you’ve not said anything about meeting up again so I thought I’d ask. am I gonna have to leave my metaphorical ball there with you? can’t say I wouldn’t be sad :(_

** _Beca (13:15):  
_** _Uh no. _

** _Beca (13:16):  
_** _Sorry, I’ve had a bit of a morning. I mean not if you want it back? In your court? Or something. Would be great if we could stop talking about balls, though._

To say she was reluctant to do anything right now would be an understatement. Beca wanted nothing more than to sleep, to try and avoid the problems the same way she would do back in college. But she knew she couldn’t, not anymore. She’d learnt from her mistakes and knows that just sleeping on it gets you nowhere. But Chloe could be a good distraction from work. Beca was playing a waiting game now until anything else happened back in LA, so there was little else she could do about it. She knew she might as well try and do something with her time, so why not spend it with Chloe?

Chloe had been trying to remember; she’d told Beca so the other night after admitting she tried to scrounge some details from her Mom’s place about them, so it was clear Chloe wanted to know more. Beca just wasn’t sure if remembering everything was such a good idea. But she didn’t know what she wanted. 

She didn’t want Chloe to remember every detail of their past, not in the same way Beca could, so burning and intense. She just wanted to let Chloe know she’d been a part of her life for a little while before everything went wrong, that they were friends and they shared their time for a couple years, but nothing else. Because Beca wouldn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself, with Chloe. She just wanted them to be friends again. Beca couldn’t open up in the same way again but she’d allow Chloe to get closer than most if she so desired. Because it’s Chloe.

** _Chloe (13:17):  
_** _I finish work at 11 tomorrow. you can decide what we do. you can talk to me about your morning if you want?_

** _Beca (13:18):  
_** _It’s boring and work-related but you’ll probably find out one way or another. Do you want me to come pick you up, or...?_

** _Beca (13:18):  
_** _Like, I don’t mind. It’s cool either way. I can just meet you._

** _Chloe (13:20):  
_** _and pass up the opportunity of a famous los angeles music producer picking me up from work? no way! I’ll send you the deets after school_

** _Beca (13:21):  
_** _I’m technically only an assistant. Like, a standard assistant, not even for production. Officially I’m a personal assistant._

** _Chloe (13:21):  
_** _but you’re still a cute assistant that works in la... :)_

** _Beca (13:21):  
_** _The former is definitely open for discussion. You should see me at work - definitely not cute._


	15. xv

Pulling up at the spot instructed by Chloe, Beca parked and killed the engine. She wore her dark sunglasses; deemed necessary by the kind of odd weather they were experiencing, where the skies were clear and blue but the air had a gentle chill and the wind was brisk. 

Beca actually kind of knew the school that Chloe worked at, hearing about it back in high school when other students were droning unnecessarily on about their younger siblings and what schools they attended.

Despite the weather, Beca wound down the window and rested her arm against the door frame, pulling her phone from the passenger seat and shooting Chloe a quick text to let her know she was here before tucking it into her jacket pocket. 

Music pumped slowly from the radio into the air and trickled out through the open window as Beca considered how she was going to break the bad news about her job to Chloe; or if she was even going to bother. It wasn’t so much that she deserved to know, but more the fact that Chloe was going to find out one way or another; it was going to hit the news eventually and Beca wanted her to hear it from her directly. She felt an obligation to tell her simply out of politeness.

Beca inhaled deeply, shoulders rising as she re-positioned herself in the driver’s seat. The situation still sat heavy in her stomach and made Beca reel every time she thought about it, the overwhelming sense of impending doom cloaking her like a heavy blanket she couldn’t move under. And she knew part of her anxiety was to blame but it didn’t make it any easier and it didn't make the situation any less shitty. It had been a huge bummer on her day. She'd managed to shower that morning but her day previous was just spent wallowing and dreading what was going to happen next. She let herself revel in it, knowing she needed to instead of denying it had ever happened because that never worked. She knew she needed to hit the bottom before she could get back up; it was just fucking inconvenient.

She hadn't spotted Chloe wandering about the sidewalk looking lost until she was a few cars down. Her hair was tied back, wisps of strands framing her face and a loose bun positioned at the top of her head - she couldn’t look more like a teacher if only she had a pen tucked into it - her clothes were cute and smart in that way that teaching assistants can always do.

Beca flashed her headlights to get her attention and watched as the redhead nearly skipped over, a bounce in her step that couldn't help but make a smile tug at the corner of Beca's mouth. Chloe made her way to the passenger side before climbing in. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hey! Sorry, I was looking for a different color...”

Beca just waved her hand at the statement before turning down the radio, “Nah, that’s cool.”

“What happened to your Chevy?”

She frowned, turning her head to look over at the woman beside her who was taking in the new surroundings and pulling her belt on. Her current car was a Ford. “My what?” she asked, eyes still fixed on her from behind her shades as she started the engine up again.

“Your Chevy. The Celta?” Chloe asked, somewhat confused as she looked to her, like it was plainly obvious she would be asking Beca about it.

Beca held the silence between them for several beats, looking at the woman opposite. The comment caught her at the tip of her balance. The Celta had been her first car. “How do you know I had a Celta?”

“You told me about it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

A crease fell between Chloe’s brows. She sat back into the cushion of the seat and turned to face the front window. “You didn’t?” she asked.

“No,” she shook her head.

“Oh... it was gray, right?” Chloe pointed a finger as she pulled forward from her seat again, seat belt pulling across her shoulder as her energy picked up again, faltering for barely a second.

Beca dipped her head with a shrug, giving Chloe the benefit of the doubt, a small bubble of laughter hitting the bottom of her stomach, “Silver. But yeah.”

“No, I remember it being gray.”

This time she found herself smirking, the corner of her lip curled up and showing teeth like a kid who’d just been told they could go get ice-cream. Suddenly Beca was thankful for the sunglasses, hiding how her eyes creased at the corners, “You do?”

“...yeah,” Chloe uttered before the realization dawned on her and an energy shot through her body that made her grab for the free bit of skin at Beca’s wrist and give it a small squeeze, “Yeah, I do!”

Chloe was so warm on Beca’s wrist. Her hands were soft and gentle with a pleasant firmness as she squeezed. It made the rest of her body feel chill as if it was missing out, and when Chloe retreated delicate fingers, Beca felt a stark contrast now that it was missing. But Chloe’s touch still felt the way it had always done.

“It was totally gray, though,” she added as she turned to face forward, smiling cheekily, knowing it would irk Beca just slightly.

“No way, dude; totally silver,” she shook her head, ready to pull away. But as she placed her hand on the shift stick to pull off, a thought suddenly dawned on her, “Hey, are you okay with, like... driving?”

Chloe hummed and looked over to the woman next to her, Beca’s mouth tight lipped as if she’d touched on a sensitive subject, “What? Oh, no, totes. I can’t be the one to drive - I hate it and it makes me panicky - but I’m an excellent passenger, especially with someone who has driven me before.” Chloe declared it so effortlessly that Beca would have brushed it off if she didn’t know Chloe was likely telling the truth; she remembered how uneasy Chloe had been in the parking lot when they first ran into each other. She had always been a little jealous of how easily Chloe could open up, sharing her truth without a second thought. Beca’s thoughts paused... did that mean she remembered Beca driving her when they were at high school?

Unable to help the smile that crept onto her face again, Beca nodded and finally set off, making way for Downtown. It wasn’t a long drive, but it gave them enough time to settle into the atmosphere of the car and fall into their own comfortable spaces together.

“So... are you going back to LA next week? You said you’d probably only stay until Hallowe’en,” Chloe asked curiously, voice carrying in the air between them and over the small noise of the radio.

_Right_, Beca thought, _that was next week_. It wasn’t as though Beca hadn’t noticed; some tiny receptor in the back of her mind had acutely registered that it was happening. The seasonal coffees and decorations had been a dead giveaway, but the crazy drama of her job and the stress of it had taken residency in the forefront of her mind, alongside Chloe. “Uhh, yeah,” Beca hesitates, “I’ll probably be staying for a bit longer, actually. I’m pretty sure my Mom wants me to stay for Thanksgiving anyway, but I don’t really... have any plans to go back right now. No one’s missing me there, anyway.”

“I bet that’s not true! What about... Dax? Is that his name?” Chloe shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Beca felt the movement next to her. Was she driving too fast?

She flicked her eyes over to the redhead, “Dax? He can handle himself. I spoke to him yesterday; they’ve got enough on their plate right now so they’re too busy to miss me.”

Shoulders rose and fell with deep breath and Chloe nodded, “Well, I’m glad you’re staying a little longer. I would have been a little disappointed if you’d have gone back next week.”

Beca rose an eyebrow and darted her eyes over to Chloe again before returning them to the road and smiling to herself, “You mean you really find my company that enjoyable?”

She felt Chloe shrug beside her as the air shifted, the redhead humming and Beca knew she had pressed her lips together and skewed them playfully. “I don’t know if I’d say that, exactly—”

“Oh great, thanks!” Beca scoffed, hearing a laugh from beside her, “You know I don’t have to spend time with you, right? I could literally just drop you right here on the side of the road and drive off.”

Chloe gave a dramatic faux gasp of shock, “Like a little puppy? You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m probably a lot more heartless than you think.”

“Wow, if I didn’t know better then I’d be asking if _you_ were a teacher.”

“Well, when you work with a bunch of childish adults you kind of feel like you’re their monitor.”

“Do you rule with an iron fist?”

“As much as I can get away with.”

Chloe hummed in thought and Beca glanced over to her.

“What?”

Shrugging, Chloe smoothed out the skirt across her thighs, “I bet you’re actually really great to work with, since you’re so committed.”

“Nope, totally the worst,” Beca shook her her head.

The laugh that came from Chloe light and breathy, “Ahhh, okay... and you support that with the punk slash alt-rock look, right?”

"Dude, of course. And it's _so_ _hot_," Beca replied sarcastically, all but rolling her eyes.

“You’re not wrong; it looks good on you,” Chloe simply nodded, completely serious.

Beca’s chest felt thick all of a sudden.

“Some people really dig it, almost as much as the teacher get-up,” the redhead added, gesturing at her own clothes and holding her arms out as she showed off her outfit.

“I mean you used to dress like that anyway so...” Beca trailed, shrugging with one shoulder.

Chloe laughed again, smacked a hand at Beca’s arm, “No I didn’t! I dressed well, even despite the fashion trends at the time. I’ve seen pictures.”

* * *

It was more of friendly demand than a question that had ended them up in a small restaurant for lunch. Beca sat awkwardly opposite Chloe, perched on a chair that felt too big for her. 

_“Please let me take you to lunch? It’s the least I could do after blowing you off the other week.” _

Chloe had insisted as they got out the car, shades holding back threads of hair on the top of Beca’s head as she paid for their parking spot with the redhead hovering lightly behind her. She had even grabbed Beca’s coated arm and given it a small squeeze at the bicep, asking in near desperation. 

Beca had agreed with the complete and total intention to pay at least her own share of the bill anyway, so they sat in one of the new Italian restaurants that had popped up since she’d moved away, Chloe promising that its food was delicious.

Uncomfortable, she relinquished her jacket and turned to rest it on the back of her seat. Bare arms now free from padded sleeves, Beca gave a deep breath as she felt the cool AC sit on her skin. She hadn’t been sure if the top she had chosen - a striped, dark blue and white v-neck that was too big for her frame it either sloped off one shoulder or hung low at the front (and she was sure she filled it better when she bought it) - would be enough to keep out the chill, but with her padded jacket it had kept her warm.

She heard a shift of movement behind her and turned back, Chloe already browsing the menu for what to eat. Beca attempted to follow suit, pulling the sunglasses perched on her head and setting them on the table before picking up her own copy of the menu, considering what she might have despite the fact she wasn't particularly hungry. Their waiter came over quicker than she had anticipated, asked what drinks they wanted and Beca palmed frantically for the first thing that came to mind and ordered just a coffee. Chloe ordered water and some fresh pressed orange juice. Then their conversation was filled with discussion about dishes, of which sounded better; the calzone or pizza? Or even one of the pasta dishes? And their waiter soon returned with their drinks and took their food orders (Chloe went for a risotto dish and Beca decided on ravioli) before attention turned to Beca.

"So how come you had a rough deal with work yesterday?" Chloe asked, pouring herself a glass of chilled water, "I thought you were supposed to be on vacation?"

A hearty laugh escaped her, though it was more of a scoff than anything else. Fingers raked through her hair as she just sighed and shook her head, "You're going to find out about it one way or another by next week anyway so it's probably better you hear it from me than some trashy news station like TMZ, I guess?"

"Only if you're comfortable talking about it? Don't feel obligated to tell me anything about your job since it's your own business--"

"No, no - I want to," Beca replied suddenly. Too suddenly because the intensity of it startled Chloe backwards an inch before a gentle smile crept onto her lips once she could collect herself enough to react. She rested her elbows against the table and rose a brow at her. Beca made an attempt to back pedal, “I just mean, like... my job isn’t super secret business. Well it can be, but even then it’s cool. You can know. Like I said, I’d rather you hear it from me.”

Chloe simply nodded in understanding as she waited for Beca to continue.

“I had a conference call yesterday morning with Mickey - my boss - and Dax, alongside Dianne who is our company publicist to discuss some things, which already meant it was going to be bad because she rarely has meetings with people other than Mickey.”

“That must have been a crappy start to your day...”

Beca shrugged it off nonchalantly like it didn’t matter although she appreciated the sympathy, “It kind of made the day suck to be honest. But the whole meeting was to discuss this fucking bombshell of news that apparently happened the other day. We’ve lost three key artists, as in ‘jumped ship’ to other labels and their lawyers are demanding a pay out for all three of them since they’re probably suing the label for all the shit that went down last year and how it’s affected their record sales, which as a company we _really_ cannot afford right now because we’ve already had a huge nosedive in profit. All that and they want it to happen before the new year, so only a few months to scrape the money together.”

“God, Beca... I can’t imagine how awful that must be for you,” the genuine emotion that laced Chloe’s voice made Beca’s chest feel thick again and the breath catch at the back of her throat as she watched the redhead reached over and rested a palm on the back of her own hand that been toying with the corner of a napkin, “I’m so sorry.”

And Chloe was still so warm. Or she herself was cold; she couldn’t often tell anymore. But Chloe was just... warm. Not hot in an uncomfortable way that she should be concerned the redhead was catching a fever, but warm in a way that she’d forgotten, that was so undeniably familiar and had been so consuming and secure.

She must have twitched or moved in some capacity because she felt the pressure lighten from the top of her hand as though Chloe was giving her the chance to pull away. And she knew she should. She did this constantly; allowed herself to get almost comfortable before pulling away. It was a tale as old as a Brother’s Grimm story but she just... kept doing it. It was self preservation. But no. _No_. She was better at this now. She had more control, a better understanding for the other parties involved; that you can’t just lead someone along and leave them stranded on a sinking boat, never telling them you had the only life jacket all along. Instead she denied any infatuation she had in the last few years, the reason of work always the go-to excuse as to why she couldn’t be involved in long term relationships. 

The technique she did even now, the thick substance that crawled its way up from the pit of her stomach to her chest being ignored and repressed by a mental pile of bricks. Because she couldn’t allow herself to feel that away again, not about Chloe. Not now. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them, since she’d have to drive back to LA and return to her old life at some point, leaving everything else behind. But the softness of Chloe’s skin was doing nothing but keeping her hand pinned to the table.

Instead this time it was Chloe who pulled away, Beca peaking upwards and catching a fleeting _something_ in her eyes that disappeared as soon as she saw it. 

Chloe’s chest and shoulders rose together as she inhaled, clearing her throat. “What does that mean for you, then? They’re not expecting you to go back though, right?” she asked, taking another sip of water.

“Uh, no...” Beca frowned, a little disappointed at the loss of Chloe’s pressure, “That’s kind of why I said I can stay until at least Thanksgiving. They’re not expecting me to front this like I had to with the last cock up—”

“And they really shouldn’t expect you to, either,” Chloe shook her head, “That’s not your job, Beca. It was totally unfair how you had to deal with all that last time, that must have been really difficult.”

“It was shitty but nobody else was really... stepping up, so I kind of had to do it.”

“Well, if it counts for anything, I think what you did was really impressive and you should be really proud of yourself. It takes a particular type of person to do that and take on that kind of responsibility, and I’m sure it probably left you feeling completely drained but the fact you could even come out the other side of that is real proof of character. You must really love working there.”

Chloe always had the ability to make her feel a little better. “I—...” Beca trailed off, her thumb and pointer finger still fiddling the corner of the napkin nervously, “I enjoy the work, the creating. And I enjoy some of the people I work with but I don’t enjoy the company so much any more.” 

“That must be hard.”

Beca shrugged again. “Yeah, well...” she paused, taking a mouthful of hot coffee before she continued, “it’s like with a lot of jobs I think, once the novelty wears off. But it doesn’t matter, I’m probably not going to be able to work there much longer anyway.”

“Well... worst case scenario is you get another job, right?”

Beca pulled her hand from the napkin to rest it in her lap, denying her twitch and just smiled to herself. Los Angeles was notoriously difficult to get jobs in anyway, let alone ones you actually want. It wouldn’t be that easy and yet Chloe made it sound so simple. “It’s not really... as easy as that.”

“Or why don’t you make yourself one? A lot of people our age are doing that nowadays; finding a niche in the market or producing content online. From what you’ve told me already, I think you’d be really great at something like that. You’ve got the drive, the persistence to do it and since you know the industry you know what works.”

“Dax said something similar to me, actually,” Beca muttered. She took another gulp of coffee and peeked over the rim of the mug as she did, watching the redhead opposite.

Chloe pressed her lips together firmly before shifting her posture, “He did?”

She only nodded in response until the pause between them urged her to elaborate, “He suggested I start my own label, actually, but that’s complicated and costs way too much money that I don’t have right now—”

“I have to give him the benefit of the doubt, it’s not actually a bad idea.”

“I appreciate your apparent confidence in me but it’s really not that easy. There’s lawyers to go through with copyrighting and other stupid legalities. And it’s fucking... loads of money to get started. Which I also don’t have and won’t any time soon.”

“You should come up with a plan of action,” Chloe said, forever thinking about the situation objective and optimistically, “Maybe a year, three year, or even five year thing. I don’t know about you but things like that can make me feel really prepared for anything else that happens. I did that for college.”

The brunette couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, you used to do that a lot in high school, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow playfully, inviting Beca to elaborate.

“Yeah. You knew exactly what you wanted to do after high school. Go to college, do the teaching thing in another state for a couple years - Florida, maybe - before you did a placement in Europe and then just... settle down,” she finished, looking up at Chloe properly. And what she saw looking back at her was the soft but intense blue, like all of Chloe’s focus was on her, every sense was tuned in on her.

And the food turned up. Chloe finally broke her gaze away as they were interrupted.

“Dude, what?” Beca said kind of dumbly, gaze still focused on the redhead as she thanked the waiter for their meals and reacted to her question.

Chloe gave a quick burst of laughter and shook her head, smiling lightly so creases pulled at the corner of her mouth, “Nothing! It’s nothing. It’s sweet you seem to remember so much.”

Hesitation caught her before Beca made a dig for her ravioli, “I just have a good memory, I guess.”

Chloe left the comment in the air as she watched Beca carefully take a bit of her food.

“Holy shit,” Beca groaned, letting the taste hit her palette, “Ohmygod, that’s so fucking good.”

Chloe beamed back at her, “Right?! That’s why I wanted to bring you here! The food is crazy good.”

“I don’t really eat a lot but I think I could eat this for a month solid and not get bored.”

Chloe giggled again in response before quickly diverting the conversation away, “So do you have any plans then? For Halloween? I bet you’ve got gigs at clubs lined up, right?”

“Uhhh... not really? I don’t have anything booked since people don’t really know I’m here and I’m still not in a good headspace to even think about considering work right now... but maybe I should be looking... My Mom kind of loves trick or treat-ers and always does the house up on the day, so I’ll probably just help her do that instead and then... chill?” Beca asked in rhetoric as she shrugged her shoulders, preparing to eat another mouthful, “Do you?”

“Only early evening... We have a group of staff and parents that volunteer at the school to meet up and supervise any kids that want to go Trick or Treating. It’s an annual thing and it’s really great for the kids since it means they can go with their friends or if their parents are busy. That’s six until eight, so after that I have a quiet evening, since Bree is going out with the girls she plays tennis with as it’s the weekend the day after when we’re done. I’ll probably have some wine, read a book or watch Hocus Pocus or something like that.”

“That’s really sweet you do that for the kids,” Beca commented finally, letting them consume their food peacefully for several moments, savoring the taste.

Chloe simply shrugged like it was no big, alongside a gentle smile that hit her eyes, even despite how soft it was, “Like I told you; they’re good kids. I just want to be able to give them a positive start in life and if I help even one kid make their music dream a reality then it’ll be totally worth it. You have to give as much as you want to get back so it’s only fair I try just as hard for them as they would for me.”

And that was really the thing that was making it both difficult and easy for Beca to want to keep seeing Chloe, to keep meeting up with her and rebuild the bridges that disappeared after the accident; she was still the genuine, kindhearted human being that Beca had adored so ardently. There might have been new coats of paint that she didn’t recognize but they were faded and unreliable, ready to be rubbed away with the right kind of cloth to reveal what Beca had been so familiar with underneath. Some of the paint would stick - Beca realized that and she can never change it - but in essence it’s still as she remembers. The warmth and the pressure of her body that was always just the right amount. She was glad that it was still there.

And she was quietly glad that Chloe couldn’t remember what _she_ had been like.


	16. xvi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to iPhone/isthemusictoblame my angel for proof reading this chapter for me and correcting my horrible grammar. <3

She had been marking test papers when Chloe first caught herself thinking about it.

Or, at least, she _ wasn’t _ marking the test papers she’d been given, and it was actually Aubrey who’d caught her gazing off into the distance, finally calling her name and pulling her back down from her plane of thought.

And it wasn’t like she was doing it intentionally - because she really wasn’t - but Chloe couldn’t burn the image of Beca from her mind. She had turned to rest her jacket on the back of her chair, the shirt she was wearing a size too big that it sloped gracefully off of one shoulder, ivory skin glowed under the orange tint of the restaurant lights like something phosphorescent; blinding and gentle all at once. 

She didn't really know what she had expected, honestly. It wasn't like she had been expecting anything to be there, but she hadn't been surprised at the sight of it either—the sight of pink flowers cascading across Beca’s shoulder, the blade of it creasing and moving so fluidly as Beca maneuvered her arms around her so that the petals looked like they were floating on water.

A faint essence of self-rebuttal fell over her, like she knew they were there a second after the brief, initial moment of surprise; feeling like she could kick herself for ever possibly forgetting something as intricate could have been removed from the skin it lay across.

But it was still new.

Her body’s reaction, though? That had been the most surprising. Something had tugged at the pit of her stomach at the same moment Chloe’s heart had pounded in her chest. It was a sensation that was... familiar and confusing all at once. But she knew she was attracted to Beca. To all of her. It was undeniable that the brunette held a certain... pull that Chloe had so easily and so immediately fallen into.

She had become aware, suddenly, of the bare skin of Beca’s arms, realizing it was the first time she’d actually witnessed the tone of her body other than her hands and everything from the shoulders up. Beca’s skin was paler than her own but not completely paper white: there were hints of warm color from the LA sun leaving its lasting kiss against cool skin. _ And _ there were more tattoos, inked on both arms and even her wrist. Chloe had wondered about the motivation behind each one.

They had to contain a story. Even her own tattoo had a story, she’d remembered. The lady bug that had landed so gently against her wrist and sat comfortably, unmoving as Chloe had stared at it with bleary eyes, like a companion to the soul devastating _ ache _ her body was feeling in the moment. She knew it was a sign from something significant, something otherworldly that insisted that her father was in a better place. Something so small and so calm, so unaffected by the weight of life and trusting enough to rest there.

But hell, she could never remember when. She knew why, but never when. And the lack of memory had always irked her, but she couldn’t help her curiosity about Beca’s _ whens _ and _ whys _ that blossomed in the back of her mind as she gazed at the gallery in front of her.

But that valley of questions was for a different time. Instead she had stared while the whole world had slowed, eyes trailing over artwork, both static and living all completely within the same moment. Beca’s hair was pulled over one shoulder with a tight braid threaded into one side that Chloe had instantly adored when she first saw it that afternoon, and the style only gave the redhead a view of her woman’s shoulder that was uncensored.

And she knew all of this was so... _ much _ . Chloe had always been one for feeling. She had always _ felt _ everything. She was not shy about her emotions, but they were constant and all-the-time and sometimes it was overwhelming. But she never felt ashamed. Even when she felt something so surprising and confusing, she always allowed herself to _ feel _ before she considered what it meant. Which could often, as Aubrey had mentioned more than a few times before, be one of her weaknesses. Regardless, she never denied her emotions, and never refused them access; they had a tendency to wash over her, especially _ then _ within that stretched, warped moment of time where Chloe _ couldn’t stop staring _. At least, she couldn’t stop staring until Beca began to face her and reality crashed back to the ground: her throat was dry and she needed to tear her eyes away because they were lingering and rude.

But she knew this wasn’t like her—to be shy. She was, by nature, playful and flirty and so care-free and, _ God _, she wanted to be all those things with Beca. She really hadn’t let the unusual shyness stop her; she still pressed a touch to Beca’s hand and sung the girl’s praises without a second thought with a teasing comment thrown into the mix, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of Chloe’s mind that it was... Too Much. The advances were Too Much, and the comments and the flirtations, like something in her subconscious was stopping her from taking it further, like she’d been told before that it was all... not unwelcome and not undesired, but unattainable.

And she couldn’t really kick why she felt that way.

So she’d swallowed, averted her eyes, and stared hard at the menu. She had let the sensation drain out of her because it was uncomfortable and it had been completely taking away from the moment they had been sharing. That was more important to Chloe than just worry.

Their afternoon had ended shortly after their meal. Beca had inquired a little more about her position at the school and about her decision to stay in Portland to teach instead of going to another state (which had been influenced by the symptoms of her accident and an otherworldly feeling she was in the right place). They had then parted ways, with Chloe leaving Beca to consider solutions for her work situation—a situation which the brunette was clearly struggling with and needed some time to sort—and made her way home before starting her usual weekly chores about the apartment. 

She had been busy over the next few days, her weekend full of its usual rituals; a small grocery shop on Saturday morning, her session with Marco and the meal with him and her Mom. She’d actually managed to bring home a hefty box of her old things, her mother keeping her promise from the weekends prior and instructing Marco to help her in the attic.

But she hadn’t managed to look at it. Chloe didn’t have time; her week had been insanely busy since one of the teachers had been off sick, meaning she’d had to pick up an extra couple of classes at short notice and help with grading homework. The boxes had sat on the floor of her room for most of the week and had been neglected, just like they had been when they were in the attic. There was no sense of urgency for Chloe. It had been there for several years collecting dust, so what was another week for it to sit patiently in her space?

Besides, she’d had time to consider all this. She’d been drifting off into thoughts during the quiet times of the day and in the dark before she slept. Of everything to do with Beca and everything happening at work. There was a lot going on right now and she couldn’t seem to organize everything effectively, even with her planner. Work would ease up a little bit for Thanksgiving and Winter break, and even though that meant she would be busy spending time with family, she didn’t really mind.

Maybe she was just thinking about everything too much. Maybe she was worrying too much and doing too little to just enjoy her time with Beca and whatever journey of recovery they were on together. She was just being a bit too much like Aubrey right now, and the thought made her smile to herself and shake her head.

“Chloe, please. I’m trying to talk to you.”

It was as if even the simple thought of her name was enough to summon the blonde into existence. The redhead turned to face her roommate in response, eyes wide and already begging light forgiveness.

Aubrey eyed her with a tiresome look that was stern but lacking in enthusiasm. Her hair curled lazily and rested at her shoulders, a scarf hugged her neck, and the rest was covered in a coat, accompanied by skinny jeans and boots. She had neglected to dress up.

Chloe reached over and gave the blonde a squeeze to the bicep in apology, not letting go and hooking their arms together, “Sorry, Bree.”

“Are you trying to make a habit of not listening to me? This is the third time this week you’ve been in a world of your own.”

“No, no,” she said, adjusting the pointed hat atop her head, “I’m not, Bree, I promise! I’ve just had a few things on my mind this week—”

“And I’d want you to talk to me about it if it was troubling you...”

“I know, I know. I‘ve just been getting my thoughts in order.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

The comment irked Chloe in a way she didn’t expect, but she brushed the sensation off quickly, “Well you see, dear Aubrey, for tonight I am not myself, but a servant of the night and an aid to those who cross the veil on this All Hallows’ Eve!”

Not waiting for a reaction, Chloe skipped forward and gave a small spin in her flowing dress. It was ‘Nicole Kidman in _ Practical Magic’ _ chic that inspired her witch’s outfit for the evening. Much to her pleasure, she had not been the only adult to dress up for the occasion. Several other teachers and the majority of the parents that assisted joined in with the fun with costumes ranging from basic onesies to costumes of maximum effort.

They had been out now for well over an hour, finishing the tail end of their route with their group numbers slowly diminishing as each student was guided back to their home or collected by their parents. They made it to the last house marking the end of their route and volunteer services and had started to walk home when a yell came from ahead of them.

“Aunt Chlo!” 

A small, purple figure came bounding towards her and she recognized her niece immediately, despite the Monsters Inc. costume that caused her to waddle down the sidewalk.

“Sophie!” Chloe beamed, bending at the knees in anticipation as the small girl jumped and wrapped her arms around her neck.

Perched on her hip, the kid gave her a tight hug around the neck, the fabric of the costume pressing against her cheek.

“You scared me for a second! I didn’t recognize you!”

“It’s okay Aunt Chlo, it’s just me!”

“Phew!”

“It’s just a costume; Momma made it for me.”

“Oh she did? She did such an amazing job. Where is your Mom?”

Sophie turned in Chloe’s arms and pointed back down the street, leading her gaze to Marco and his wife, Maria, with who Chloe could only assume was their son, Lucas. 

Chloe gave a small, acknowledging wave as they approached before continuing, “And who is Lucas dressed as?"

“He wanted to come as Coco since Momma says the movie is about where her Grammy is, but I think he just wanted to have his face paints done,” Sophie replied, battling with the grey hood of her outfit as it obscured her view. Chloe helped her pull it back, showing dark hair, and the little girl quickly spotted the blonde that was with her, “Oh hey Aunt Bree!”

Aubrey appeared beside her, “Hello, Sophie. You’re looking particularly scary tonight.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a costume.”

Marco and Maria, both dressed in matching Flintstone outfits, made their way down the street with Lucas clutching his Mom’s hand tightly, giving a hearty hello to the group and exchanging a few hugs and kisses to the cheek. Chloe requested a quick high five from her nephew.

“Wasn’t planning on seeing you tonight,” Marco started.

“You say that like I don’t do this every year.”

“Not sure what I expected, really. Do you want to join us? We’ve got a block and a half to go before we head home, so there’s still time to get some candy out of it.”

“Sure! Bree?”

Aubrey turned, looking somewhat surprised to be asked, “I, uh—...”

“It’ll be fun!”

“Please, Aunt Bree?” a small voice perked up from below them, Lucas looking at the taller woman eagerly.

She almost frowned - Chloe could tell her eyebrows were straining from knitting together - but the puppy dog eyes from the boy were getting the better of her as her posture softened, “Sure.”

They all celebrated her decision, deciding to make their way onto the rest of the journey. Sophie still clung to Chloe tightly, showing her how well she’d done in collecting candy from the neighborhood and promised she would share some with her two favorite aunts before they went home.

They had soon covered a few houses, her niece only now relenting from being carried to take part in the trick or treating.

“Did you manage to go through that stuff from Mom’s?” Marco has appeared beside her, walking in stride and stopping at the end of each house’s pathway as his kids knocked on doors with their Mom.

“Not yet, no. I keep forgetting, ironically.”

Marco laughed, “Well if there’s anything I can help with, just let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Have you had chance to meet up with Beca again?”

“Yes, actually. We went for a very lovely meal the other day—”

“Ah, so another date?”

Chloe smacked the back of her hand against his bicep, “Hey!”

“Look, I’m just saying I’m glad you’ve both reconnected!”

“Are you not concerned about how exactly this ‘Beca’ knows Chloe?” Aubrey piped up suddenly.

It was clear the question was an attempt to knock Marco off course, but he side-stepped it, not missing a beat. “Not at all. I was at college when they were getting to know each other but Chlo mentioned her enough that I’m sure they were good friends. Nothing like a healthy bit of nostalgia, right Aubrey?” He finished with a playful wink.

Cheeks flared red as Aubrey turned to face forward, obscured slightly from the dark evening, with hands now pushed deep into her pockets, “I understand a healthy nostalgia but not when it could lead to a total stranger wriggling their way into your sister’s life—”

“Bree. Come on. She’s not a total stranger. It’s okay if you’re totes jealous. I get it. I still love you and nothing is going to change anytime soon.”

“I am not—! I am not... jealous.”

“I’m kidding!” Chloe grabbed at Aubrey’s arm, looping it through and holding onto her tightly, “It’s fine. You can stop worrying about me.”

“I don’t think she’ll be doing that any time soon,” Marco looked over at Aubrey with a soft smile, who only scowled in return.

Lucas and Sophie both came running to the group with their mother in tow, the three of them rejoining the group before making their way to the next house. They repeated the actions several times over as they rounded towards the end of the last block.

“Aunt Chlo! You have to come and do this one with me! You haven’t got any candy yet.”

“Oh, I thought you were sharing some of yours?”

“I mean I can... but you should really get some of your own.”

“Well, how about you knock and just make sure you get some for me this time.”

“Okay. But you still have to come with us,” Sophie demanded, grabbing Chloe by the hand and pulling her down the path of the yard.

Upon being freed, Chloe ushered her niece and nephew towards the front door, noticing a faint melodic noise coming from inside the house. As they waited to be answered she turned to face the others with arms crossed against the cold, noticing the three adults talking quietly. Marco was extremely good at pushing Aubrey’s buttons.

The kids chimed a hearty ‘Trick or Treat!’ as the door was answered and Chloe swung her head back round to make sure they weren’t totally unsupervised. But the woman that had answered the door stunned Chloe to a silent, slowed dimension.

Framed perfectly by the dark door frame and light wood of the front porch, the sight pulled the oxygen from her lungs and several images assaulted her mind. Her own posture felt familiar and repeated, arms crossed tight across her body and the chill of the air creeping over her chest. _ She had been here before. _But this feeling was different than the last time. The sudden pain that flared across her head made her frown, making her want to wince against the bright hallway lights, but her line of sight didn’t wander.

It was striking just how similar the older woman looked like Beca. They were a similar size, similar frame. This was her Mom. And what was her name? It was on the end of Chloe’s tongue and she swiped at her lips in an attempt to transfer it. The sound of compliments about her niece and nephew’s costumes centered her, the voice warm, light and... welcoming.

“Katherine?” Chloe took a few steps closer, rising to the porch.

The woman looked up from the children, half way through handing out candy. A short beat of confusion held Chloe’s breath in her throat before it turned into recognition and the older woman beamed. “If it isn’t Chloe Beale! Come here!” Kathy offered her arms out in gesture and Chloe was not one to deny someone a hug. She wrapped her arms around the woman and squeezed tight, a floral smell radiating from her that was simple and homely and... memorable. “And why do I have the pleasure of your presence this evening?”

The tune from inside had stopped. Chloe released the hug and gestured toward the children. “Niece and nephew. We’re out trick or treating. That’s Sophie, and this,” the small boy was tugging shyly at the hem of Chloe’s dress, so she leaned down to hoist him up and onto her hip, “is Lucas. Say hello to Kathy.”

“Hello Sophie. Hello Lucas,” Kathy replied as the two of them waved, Lucas noticeably more shy than his sister. “I used to know your Aunt Chloe when she was younger!”

“Did she ever come trick or treating?” Sophie asked innocently.

Both the adults laughed before Kathy answered, “No, not quite. But I think you both deserve some more candy from the bowl to make up for it - and you can each pick one out for your Aunt Chloe too.”

Lucas turned to Chloe, “Am I allowed?”

“Yes. I won’t tell your Dad if you don’t tell.”

The little boy simply nodded with a smile, and waited to be handed the bowl of treats. 

Chloe was zoned in, helping the two pick out the best treats from the candy bowl, missing the movement behind Kathy.

“Hey.”

Chloe looked up immediately, recognizing the voice. The greeting was caked in confusion and a slight hint of surprise. The source of the voice was lit by the warm colors of the interior hallway lights, hair pushed back from her face and a comfortable, smart sweater in dark red that was accompanied by light pants. It was a change from the usual grey that made Chloe smile just at the sight of it, let alone the sudden appearance of Beca.

“Hey,” Chloe echoed, a beat of silence passing longer than might have been necessary between them. “Sorry, I didn’t realize this was your house.”

“No, it’s cool. What’re you-...?”

“We’re trick or treating!” Chloe beamed innocently and smiled.

Dark blue eyes looked her up and down, “I can see that.”

“Was that you playing?”

“What?”

“The piano. That was you, right?”

Beca smiled somewhat shyly, turning her head back to where the piano must be, thumbing a gesture in an attempt to play it off casually, “Y-Yeah. I mean, it was just super simple. Nothing special.”

“I doubt that.”

“Who is...?” Beca asked, gesturing at the children.

Chloe promptly introduced them and Beca gave them both a small wave, “My roommate, brother, and his wife are back there too,” she continued with a gesture towards the group at the end of the yard.

“Oh, cool...”

“Did you know Aunt Chloe when she was smaller too?” Sophie perked you.

Beca smiled, “I did. But she’s always been taller than me, so not much smaller.”

“Oh... well thanks for the candy!” Sophie said before turning and skipping back down the path back to her parents. Lucas requested Chloe she free him so he could follow suit and she adhered to his request.

”I thought you’d have a gig tonight?”

“Entertaining her mother is the only gig she has right now,” Kathy chipped in quickly.

“_ Mom _.”

“What? It’s true. Call me selfish, but you know what it’s like Chloe; you don’t see Beca in a couple years and you start to forget what she looks like,” she said before turning to her daughter and giving her a soft pat on the cheek, “Still beautiful though. It was lovely to see you again, Chloe. Have a lovely evening - I’ll leave you girls to it.”

As Kathy walked back inside, Beca’s expression was pain stricken. Chloe might have laughed at her Mom’s comment like it was a funny quip but the stark reality of it had twisted a knot in her stomach and struck a sensitive nerve she thought had healed.

A sickly atmosphere hung between the two women. 

“Chloe... I—,”

“She doesn’t know?”

Stepping outside, Beca pulled the door closed behind her, “She knows about the accident but not... how it’s affected you.”

The realization that Beca hadn't told her own Mom gave Chloe a sharp strike of cold up her spine and she inhaled in response, almost sighing. It was automatic and Chloe didn’t have time to frown at the muscle memory before she caught it. “Guess not,” Chloe muttered, a pain in her stomach that knotted with her words, the next she spoke pressing to be as genuine as she could muster, “it was really nice to see you. Thank your Mom for the candy. Have a good evening.”

Chloe turned a heel and made her way back down the yard. But this too, this heaviness of sadness that she had once become friends with was all too familiar. Something at the back of her mind itched and the pain she felt earlier flared again.

A pressing thought dawned on her; that unsettled feeling which pressed in her stomach when she had thought of Beca - the one that made her feel like she should consider just how much of herself she presented - was there something here that was the source? Why couldn’t she brush off the remnants of disappointment that pressed against her shoulders. With anyone else it would be easy. Tom was a perfect example; his jipes and comments didn’t matter. Even when it was hurtful it didn’t matter because it was just _ Tom _ and it wasn't serious. So why was it so hard for to brush this off? Chloe felt a warmth press against her eyes and she squeezed them shut in an attempt to withhold tears.

Beca had rounded on her before she knew it, a hand against her elbow that startled Chloe suddenly. Beca pulled away as quickly as it had appeared.

“Chloe, I’m- I’m sorry.”

The redhead stopped.

“I fucked up. That was really shitty of me to do and I’m... Sorry. I should have told her,” Beca apologizing, struggling to maintain eye contact, but Chloe could see the fight within her to continue, “Look. I don’t-... I’m not great with verbalizing emotions. It’s a fundamental character flaw that comes from having your parents’ marriage breakdown when you’re, like, twelve, and I’ve had to work on it a lot. But it’s not an excuse. I get if you don’t want to talk again after this, I just didn’t... want you to think I’m a heartless bitch.”

The words were genuine and Chloe softened. God, she was such a sucker for it. The view in front of her was more vulnerable than Chloe was expecting; sweater wrapped around Beca tightly against the chill of the evening, arms pressed firmly against her body and feet pressed solid against the ground.

Chloe sniffed, “Well if you ran out here in your socks, I struggle to think you’re a total heartless bitch.”

“Oh,” Beca’s gaze fell to her own feet, a frown creasing across her eyebrows, “I—”

“It’s... it’s okay. I don’t know what I expected,” Chloe continued, watching Beca pull her sleeves over her hands and fold her arms against her chest, “It just—... It took me by surprise. As soon as I saw your Mom, I recognized who it was and I just... think I have a lot to process right now.” She knew the smile she gave didn’t reach her eyes but her laugh was nervous and honest.

“No, sure. It’s cool. Just... do whatever you feel comfortable with right now and, uhh... yeah,” Beca waved a hand blindly, trying to move the conversation onward.

“I’ll text you.”

Beca uttered a ‘cool’ and 'I'll see you' before awkwardly making her way back down the yard. 

Chloe pulled at her resolve, willing her tears away before taking a deep breath and turning to make her way back towards her relatives.

“Was that who I think it was?” Aubrey asked immediately upon Chloe’s arrival back to the group.

“Well, who do you think it was?”

“You know who.”

Chloe smiled, "Then it was, yes."

“Did you know she lived here?”

“Not at all.”

Aubrey, clearly unhappy with the answer she received, bristled in her jacket. She straightened her posture, “She looks better in the photos.”

“Bree!”

“What? It’s true.”

Marco leaned backward as they began walking the rest of the street, half turning to their conversation, “If it’s any consolation, I definitely think you’re jealous now.”

“It is _ not _ of any consolation, Marco.” Aubrey’s face was creased into a definite frown and her irritation spread across her shoulders, enough to hit her posture.

The group made their way to the end of the block, the street becoming speedily familiar to Chloe in the weird sensation of memory whiplash she had been used to. 

The two women had divided from Chloe’s family, saying their goodbyes and had made headway back to their apartment.

Walking quietly, the redhead tried to pull on the thoughts of Kathy - an effort that seemed futile until she tried to place her in mundane situations. Coffee was key, Chloe remembering steaming cups of coffee as sunlight soaked through an unseen window, with sun orange colors and warmth and a sense that filled her inside with comfort. It spread from her chest and to her chilled hands and made her smile to herself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?” Aubrey asked, once again pulling Chloe from her thoughts.

Aubrey hadn’t wanted to be with the kids after school hours; Chloe knew she didn’t. Chloe knew better that her friend’s mind was focused on elsewhere this evening. The gathering she had in an hour or so - a party that she had been invited to by Stacie - was an annual occasion for Halloween for the last few years and the two women were not unfamiliar with it. The invitation had extended to Chloe too, but she had politely declined. A general distaste for large gatherings had grown since her accident and while she was better at handling them than she used to be, she struggled.

The redhead simply gave a nod, noticing as they rounded the street to their apartment, “I’m sure. Besides, you’re practically all ready to go and I’d have to go get changed and get ready. You’re going to have a great time, Bree. I can entertain myself whilst you’re busy, if that’s what you’re worried about; I’m a big girl.” She turned, seeing Aubrey’s face cloaked in a mixture of guilt, concern, worry, and an attempt to hide all of it with a soft smile. "I'm sure," Chloe added, answering the unspoken uncertainty on her roommate's face, "Besides, I can't risk getting between 'Three-Drink Aubrey' and Stacie."

"_Chloe_."

She smiled as sweetly as she could, "Oh, come _ on _, Bree. We all know Three-Drink Aubrey is where things really start to get interesting." Chloe raised her brows suggestively and shimmed her shoulders, spotting the door for their apartment building and noting it as a quick escape if needed.

"Do you know what?" Aubrey started, pulling her keys from her coat pocket, "I'm glad you're not going. At least now I won't have to deal with you irritating me for the rest of the evening."

"And saying you look pretty and whispering sweet nothings in your ear is irritating? Guess I can let Stacie know to get straight to it then," Chloe toyed, giving Aubrey a firm pat on the ass before skipping for the front door, not waiting around for the reaction but hearing a firm call of her name once again, but not quite heavy enough to carry any lasting weight.


	17. xvii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few content warnings for this chapter; there are descriptions of blood and some scenes of graphic nature. Thank you for persevering!

_White._

_Nothing but white and..._

_Noise._

_What was the noise?_

_What was the _word_?_

_Ringing._

_A ringing heavy in her ears and everything white and hot._

_The heaviness poured from the ringing and into her body, slowly to begin with but then all at once, thick and sickly and choking._

_Her head was spinning. Was it supposed to feel like this?_

_She couldn't remember._

_There was a smell of something sickly and foul._

_Eyes._

_Open your _eyes_._

_One pulled open, but she could feel another, heavy, which took more effort than the first._

_It was dark._

_Blurry but dark and spotted with white and orange and red._

_She let out a breath, inhaling on reflex and the pain that seared across her back was new and unwelcome and she didn't know what to do about it._

_The side of her head was warm. And..._

_Wet. It was wet and whatever she could feel was coating the swollen eye that had refused to open._

_Something was touching her from all angles. It was cold and coarse and some of it sharp, covering her lower half and she couldn't tell what._

_It was so hard to see. She couldn't tell what surrounded her._

_A gap to her left was open and she looked out. Something was moving across the ceiling._

_Or was that the ground?_

_Blinking hard, her view readjusted and focused; her body was at a dramatic angle, the ground so close that it felt wrong, the movement she saw getting closer to her. Or was it getting further away? She couldn't tell._

_Something was pressed against her chest._

_Looking down, everything was dark and looked wrong; her skin, her clothes. It was glistening against a light that came from beside her and it didn't feel right._

_An arm moved to the feeling against her chest, fingers found something tight pulled across it. Tracing it, she found the source and found the point of anchorage, the belt still firmly clicked into its buckle._

_Without thinking, she pressed the release and her body immediately sunk further, air escaping her chest as the impact caught her._

_It took a moment of recovery before she looked around again, pain running up her neck._

_She just wanted to move._

_Something told her to move and get out but she didn't know what it was, though she intended to listen._

_The only way out was next to her; a small gap in whatever kind of cage she was in._

_She had to push herself out, arms straining against the effort and all her other limbs useless and aching._

_How long it took to get out, she couldn't be sure, but the cold of the floor came to her suddenly._

_There was so much going on and she couldn't keep sense or track of it all, so she focused on the cold ground and the strength she needed to get out._

_Before she knew it, a body appeared next to her and was helping her out._

_"Are you okay?"_

_She didn't understand the question. She hurt, sure, but... she thinks she is okay._

_"Are you okay?" they asked again, appearing next to her but their face unfocused in her view, "What hurts the most?"_

_She stuttered as the person helped pull her backwards. Her vision was still blurred but her sight was slowly adjusting to how dark it was._

_They were in the middle of a street. Something behind the wreck she had been in was glowing brightly - burning._

_How did she get here?_

_She doesn't remember._

_She wants to stand._

_Pressing a hand to the floor, she tries to push herself to her feet._

_"You need to stay sat down, your leg-- you can't."_

_"What?"_

_What was wrong with her leg?_

_Her gaze fell to her feet and her view was still blurred from her eyes._

_But she could make out something white and unnatural and sickeningly brutal, the feeling in her stomach helping her to understand it shouldn't be like that._

_And she realized quickly she couldn't feel it at all._

_Something hot pulled at her eyes and her heartbeat pounded against her ears._

_"It's okay," she heard the voice from behind her, "there's an ambulance on its way already."_

_They were doing their best to calm her but the severity of the situation had quickly grasped her - cold and shocking and firm as it refused to let go - causing tears to well in her eyes and pass over her cheeks._

_"What's your name?"_

_Why would they ask that? Don't they know already?_

_She tried to think and her mind was blank. It was void and there was nothing._

_She didn't know how she had got there. Everything before was vacant and shrouded and colorless._

_But she thought harder, trying furiously to pull a name from her mind, but nothing._

_There was nothing._

_Before now there was nothing, and the overwhelming pressure of there needing to be something was collapsing in on her quickly._

_Panic crept forwards, the understanding of where she was and what had happened slowly coming to the forefront of her mind with increasing speed._

_What was it?_

_Something bad, sure, but..._

_“What’s your name?” They asked again._

_“I don’t—”_

_She tried to think again, properly. A pain ripped from the back of her skull to her forehead and she pressed a palm to it in an attempt to control the pain._

_The cold of the ground and the hot tears against her cheeks were distracting and irritating and confusing._

_Her free hand palmed for the sweater of the person next to her, needing something solid and alive and coherent to cling to. “I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I don’t know my name.”_

* * *

_The hospital was busy and uncomfortable and she still couldn’t work out what was really happening. In and out of consciousness and sleep, vision always blurred - was it always like this?_

_She had caught glances of herself as they had passed windows into the hospital, gazing into reflections as they whizzed her past, despite the brace fitted around her neck. _

_Red hair - she thinks - but slick with dark red blood. It was her own. Her left side was completely battered, dotted in red and purple bruises, open cuts that had ripped across her white skin. But she couldn’t see the rest of her, forced to lie flat straight and rigid, nurses and doctors refusing her movement to sit up._

_Flashes of barely the hour before; blue and red lights appearing in the distance, paramedics rushing to her and the guy by her side, instructions not to move and comments of ‘we need to stop the bleeding’ and ‘get the neck brace, I don’t want her moving any more than necessary’._

_The drugs helped the immediate pain but the soulful ache was near unbearable._

_She was crying the entire time, both eyes now swollen and warm, and a fear pressing into her chest that made it hard to breathe._

_The paramedics attempted to ease her unrest, but the unknown that clouded her wasn’t clearing and the pressure only worsened._

_She wasn’t sure how long it has been. She just knew she had already been placed in ER on arrival. ‘Just to get her stable’ they had said._

* * *

_“We’ve got your registered as an Unlisted Trauma Patient for now until we can get any formal identification, okay?”_

_The nurse had finally shown up. _

_At least now she was able to sit upright. They had done ‘x-rays’, she thinks, though she cannot be certain. They had tested her sensory responses and movement in her toes. ‘You have movement in your lower leg, which is a good sign’, they had said. Her other was set to be cast, braced firmly. It was unsightly. The rest of her was covered in a variety of wound closures, bandages and even stitches, most of which had been on her neck, head and face._

_She was unsure how to respond to the question. Was she supposed to?_

_“It just means you’ve been given an unofficial identity while you’re here.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Officially, you are logged as Trauma F-1116, but we’re hoping the authorities will be able to find some of your belongings at the scene of the accident that can help identify you. Can you remember if you were in possession of anything at the time?”_

_“I think...” she pressed the one, unswollen eye closed in an attempt to isolate her senses, help her remember, “I don’t know. Sorry.” She shook her head. Some sorry attempt had been made to clean the blood from her had been made._

_“That’s okay. I’m just going to ask you a couple of questions to get an idea of how your memory is, alright?”_

_She nodded, unsure what to expect._

_“Can you tell me what the date is?”_

_A shake of the head._

_“Okay. Do you know where you are?”_

_“The hospital.”_

_“Do you know which hospital? Which state?”_

_She shook her head again._

_Something got scribbled down on the clipboard he was holding._

_“And how did you arrive here?”_

_“The paramedics... there was an ambulance.”_

_Her head hurt._

_“Okay. That’s good,” the nurse finished writing on his clipboard, “Is there anything I can get for you for now? I can’t do much but whatever I can to make your stay more comfortable...” he finished with a gentle smile._

_What she really wanted was to understand. She wanted to remember. She wanted to know who she was, understand who lived in her body and who she was; she wanted to know what her family was like, what her favorite music was, if anyone loves her and why, just why, she was in that car in the first place._

_She shrugged as visibly as she could muster, “I’m kind of cold. And thirsty.”_

_“Some more blankets and a drink it is, then.”_

* * *

_“We have a list of items that were within your vehicle. I’m going to read them to you and you need to inform us if you remember possession of any, understand?”_

_She just nodded again._

_The two police officers in front of her were kind of intimidating. One of them held a bag. The nurse - Tom - had tried to explain they were here to help but she couldn’t help but feel like she was about to be scorned for something she had no recollection of doing._

_With ‘PPB’ embroidered on their uniform, she was still none the wiser about where she was; her vision was still blurred and couldn’t make out the other small writing on their jackets. Still, they listed a myriad of items, each one being placed at the foot of the bed in front of her, individually wrapped._

_“One bottle of hand sanitizer, a small compact disc case containing three CDs, one pair of Converse sneakers, one black hooded sweater, one cell phone,” the bags at the end of her bed contained mostly ruined and broken items, “one pink clutch purse and one checkered picnic blanket.”_

_One of the officers looked on hopefully. _

_She stared at the things before her, attempting to will her mind to conjure up a memory that involved any of them but to no avail._

_She couldn’t correlate what relevance all those things might have, the silent attempts to remember were heavy and empty at the same time, weighted with expectation._

_“Within the clutch wallet were numerous cards and some identification.”_

_Her eyes stared, attention fixed on the knowledge they knew who she was._

_It seemed unfair and the pressure she felt in her chest earlier returned._

_“Can you tell me anything about what might be on your identification? Just so we can verify.”_

_She shook her head an uttered a quiet ‘no’, but still looked at them expectedly._

_She wanted it._

_Needed it. To finally understand._

_It was handed over in a quiet exchange, the plastic bag crinkling loudly as the officer palmed it over._

_Her gaze never left the officer._

_A fear rose inside her; the uncertainty to discover who she was, though the desire was so strong. She wanted to understand what was happening, but the pressing unknown fought it intensely._

_The mixture of emotions made her feel sick. A familiar sensation rose in her stomach and crept it’s way to her throat, but she swallowed hard to keep down the burning bile while it brought tears to her eyes._

_She finally gazed down at the bag in her hands. _

_The image on the card was herself, she understood that much, but the sensation of recognition shot a wave through her body, the wind knocked from her in a painful sigh._

_The picture was smiling and happy, eyes glistening and kind._

_Her vision blurred again and she struggled to read the printed text, making out fuzzy numbers and letters._

_But she focused intently, tears rolling down her cheeks and the pounding in her chest intense as she struggled to breathe._

_The sound of her name in her head caught on to recognition. The emptiness she had felt inside was being drowned in a sense of being and the wholeness of identity was overwhelming._

_She suddenly felt less lost. Still confused, but understanding a little more about the body she occupied — her identity._

_Relief washed over her, more tears pressing to her eyes and a shaking breath fell from her lips. She was sure to anyone that looked on, her frame small, battered and bruised, with hot tears falling to her chin was nothing but sorrowful._

_But she was Chloe Abigail Beale, and though that was all she knew, right now it was all that mattered._


	18. xviii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all let me apologise for the extremely long delay in getting this posted. I’ve had a number of crazy personal things going on since the holidays and I’ve suffered with a lack of motivation to do much of anything.  
Second of all, thank you to anyone who returns to continue this story. I already have a majority of the next chapter written so I’m sure it won’t be as long between updates for the next chapter this time around.
> 
> Thank you again to iPhone/isthemusictoblame for proofing this chapter and lending me her time 💕

November was slowly encroaching with an unusual chill. The evenings were darkening and it took longer for the sun to reach the morning. But despite the extended darkness, Beca had little success at sleeping into late morning. 

Not to say her pattern had lengthened slightly, but there was still room for a great deal of improvement. 

But she was starting to feel the weight ease from her shoulders. The pressure of work (ignoring the total shit show of the legal issues for now) was finally beginning to loosen and Beca, dare she say anything for fear of jinxing the reality, was starting to feel better. Turns out the exhaustion had really taken its toll.

* * *

The desire to play was progressional: it had started after the meal with Chloe, Beca returning during one of her Mom’s tutoring sessions and quietly watching as her student finished. She was pretty sure the kid had recognised her when, upon her entrance, the student had stopped and stared for too long to be considered polite. What followed were frequent, awkward glances from the piano to her, causing the student to miss a number of keys and some rough sounding errors. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying making the kid fuck up so much.

But the sound of the instrument gliding through the living space, accompanied by the guidance of her mother, caught Beca in memories of her own time spent on the same small stool, far younger and stubborn. Or, at least, a touch more so than she was now. The thoughts were bittersweet: the freedom of youth, no job to tie her down and just school to worry about - none of the constant exhaustion that came with adulthood.

She had left the desire alone for a couple of days before finally sitting down. Even then, it was a slow interaction that started with Beca sitting on the bar stool in the kitchen and sipping at her coffee for fifteen minutes. She had been eyeing the instrument from the corner of her vision; masterless and quiet, silently asking her to play. Nonetheless she wandered over slowly, almost afraid to approach. 

She was reminded of her attempt shortly after arriving and how painful it had sounded, the memory replacing whatever eagerness she had with trepidation.

But she managed to make her way over, her footsteps soft on the hard floor. The faux-leather of the perch was cool as she took a seat. There were another few minutes of ghosting her fingers over the keys before courage built in her hands and she pressed down lightly. The sound wasn’t totally unwelcome, just a little unsettling as it filled the room. 

Each key sounded alien, like an old friend she hadn’t spoken with in years. 

Like Chloe. 

Something that should be familiar, something you could fall into with its pieces moulded to your skin.

And yet it wasn’t.

Beca pressed on tentatively, uncertain how to proceed despite knowing which keys to press - like a muscle memory.

Then, unexpectedly - the movement from ahead of her was sudden but subtle. Enough to make Beca jump from the surprise, misplaced notes sounding all around as her hand jolted. “Jesus, Mom,” Beca recoiled breathlessly, attempting to calm her sudden pounding heartbeat.

“I know I’m old but I’m not that terrifying,” Kathy responded, a small, smug grin on her face as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. She beelined to the refrigerator and proceeded to pour herself a glass of wine. “It’s nice to hear you playing, though. I noticed you hadn’t made a note since you arrived. Performance nerves?”

Beca simply rolled her eyes and gave a small shake of her head, but her hands stayed firmly still, now tucked lightly into her lap and cradling one another. “I don’t get the chance at work to play much anymore. Guess I’m rusty,” Beca finished in a shrug, hiding the uncertainty in her slouched posture as she moved her hands back to the keys and attempted to play again.

Her Mom took a sip of dark wine. Beca could feel her eyes on her as she played, assessing her movements and posture, so she straightened on reflex. But she still hesitated before each press of the keys, her Mom’s omnipresence creeping into the edges of her consciousness and pressing as a constant reminder.

Kathy had always been a good teacher. Beca had never been a particularly cooperative student. Especially since it was her Mom and their relationship was a whirlwind back in high school. The respect that was demanded from a teacher was there, but the tension of their home life was always rumbling slowly underneath, like bubbles of molten rock.

But Beca had learned to appreciate it. Her ability to play had provided Beca an outlet. It was an instrument of her expression and she couldn’t help but be thankful for her Mom now. It had always just felt overdue and too late.

Unsure of how long she was thinking in isolation, Kathy was placing a glass of ice and silky, syrup brown liquid on top of the piano alongside her own glass of wine before she knew it. Her Mom pressed on the keys lightly, deftly, and sounding a welcoming chord over the top of whatever nonsense Beca was making.

She took the lead, Beca ceasing in her movements and allowing — for the first time in years — her mother to truly guide her. And she listened, though the situation made the pit of her stomach lurch in uncertainty.

Kathy delivered a small chorus of notes, notes that were left open and inviting in a way that invited Beca to continue without speaking a word. And she did, following her Mom's lead and repeating with slight variation.

They continued for the next few minutes with Beca allowing herself to grow more confident at each response with the music creeping into her senses, the serenity of the piano cloaking her nerves and soaking them in gentle warmth.

When she was writing music, composing for the label, her go-to had always been drafts on the piano. It was her security blanket, the sound never drifting to something different; steady, secure and solid.

Their finish was organic. The last note hummed through the air before being released by Beca’s delicate finger. The silence the two women shared was comforting and homely.

“Still got it,” Kathy said, breaking the silence after several moments. “Good to know my teaching hasn’t been a complete waste.”

“Yeah well… you’re a good mentor.”

The two were silent once again, Beca caught in thoughts of how the music had sounded - observing.

“Beca... I know things haven’t always been great between us and we’ve had our struggles, but... I just want you to know that I’m glad you’re home. Even if it’s just for a short while longer.” Her Mom took her glass of wine and sipped it slowly, allowing her daughter to answer.

“Thanks, Mom. Me too. And I—.... I actually kind of want to stay longer, if that’s okay?” Beca asked, peeking to her side before seeing the raised brows on her mother, “Only if it’s totally cool with you? Like maybe until Christmas? Or New Year? Since work is gonna be crazy anyway, and I’m pretty sure I actually don’t have a job to go back to and I’ll have to find somewhere else to work, which probably isn’t such a great idea to tackle right now—”

“Rebecca.”

Beca balked, shocked and near terrified at the use of her full name. There was only one occasion her Mom would ever use it, and it was never good. She watched as the stone-faced woman next to her delicately placed her wine glass back down.

“I would love you to!” Kathy practically squealed, pulling her into a tight hug despite Beca’s trapped, unmoving arms.

“Mom.”

“Oh, just let your old lady have this one hug. It can be my Christmas present.”

Beca rolled her eyes and let out a huff of a laugh before awkwardly returning the gesture. It felt weird.

“We can have a girls only Thanksgiving and Christmas, how does that sound?” Kathy pulled away.

“Sure, Mom. That sounds good. I really appreciate you letting me stay longer.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You’re my only daughter; I’m obligated.”

“_Thanks_. That doesn’t make me feel like my presence is a total burden to you or anything; like you’re being pressured to house me.”

Kathy stood from her seat and waved her hand at Beca’s comment, “You know that’s not true.”

“You have a weird way of showing it...”

“Do you want another hug? Because all you have to do is ask.”

“No, Mom, I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred and ten percent.”

Kathy shrugged a shoulder as she rounded into the kitchen, topping up her glass, “Alright. The offer is still there.”

* * *

As she closed the door, Beca pressed her head against the frame and rested her head backwards. She pressed her eyes shut and grimaced. “Fuck,” she huffed, “_Fuck_.”

Her shoulders were heavy with guilt. She really should have said something to her Mom. Why was she so incapable of being honest with people from the start? _ Because that would mean you’d have to open up to people, idiot_, she thought.

She raked her fingers through her hair before dragging her hands back down to hide her face and groaned, deep and dreading.

Chloe really and honestly was the last person she was expecting to see today. The whole thing had caught her off guard, the wind knocked from her chest just at the sight of her.

The cold, damp feeling of her socks pressed into her feet and pulled her back to the present. She glanced down between her fingers, groaning once more as she pushed off the door and made an effort to remove her socks as she stumbled into the living room.

Tossing them to the couch, her Mom had returned to the kitchen and resumed the start of her cooking. 

“What a pleasant surprise! Chloe looks good. You should have just invited her over for dinner rather tha—”

“Mom. Please don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying if you want her to come over she’s welcome to visit.”

“It’s not—... it’s not that, it’s just...” Beca headed to the bar counter, exhaling deeply and popped herself onto the stool, hands fidgeting and clammy with nervousness, “Look, things with Chloe and I are just... complicated right now.”

“If this has anything to do with your summer before college then I really think you should give her—”

“No, it isn’t that. Well, I mean, it is - I’ve just...” she hesitated, a pounding creeping into her ear that matched her heartbeat, “I wasn’t honest with you. About Chloe. She’s...”

Beca was unsure how to continue, her hands gesturing as the words hung in the air, weighted and sinking like they were stuck in tar. She felt sick with anxiety.

“When I said how... it was like meeting someone for the first time again? That was more literal than I played it off as...” she looked over at her Mom’s reaction like she was just about to be scorned.

Kathy simply stood, leaning against the counter with her hands - one holding a very sharp-looking knife - with various cooking utensils and ingredients in front of her. Her attention was focused solely on her daughter, waiting for her to press on.

“Her accident, Mom, it was... it was pretty severe. I don’t know the details but she... Chloe had pretty intense memory loss and doesn’t remember much from high school. Like... me,” she uttered in a near whisper.

And it wasn’t until Beca had finally said it, bringing it to reality, that she understood the weight of the loss of all the time she and Chloe had spent together. It had been a back burner; always an inconvenience but never something she couldn’t tackle. Until maybe now.

The time they shared was embellished in a bittersweet icor that was now more distasteful than before. There was a possibility that Chloe would never remember, and the uncertainty sat like lead in the pit of Beca’s stomach. The uncertainty of her own memories also become apparent, suddenly unsure of what had been real and not.

“Oh...” her Mom started realisation dawning on her, “Beca, I’m... so sorry. I didn’t—”

Her daughter shook her head in response, “It's fine. You didn’t know.” 

There was a silence that sat uncomfortably between them.

“Is she okay?”

Beca huffed a laugh, “It’s Chloe; she’s totally fine. You know she can bounce back from anything, just like she did with her Dad. She’s actually a teaching assistant for music now.”

Kathy nodded in recognition before pausing, “Are _ you _ okay?”

Beca sighed softly. She was definitely doing better than she expected. She wasn’t working, which helped, but how she had been dealing with her situation with Chloe? She was... actually doing ok. Sort of. Kind of? She didn’t rightly know. Beca had a habit of just dealing with things as they happened and not particularly thinking of the emotional repercussions.

Considering it, the years of absence had helped dramatically to distance herself emotionally from Chloe and everything they’d done together. If Beca had known closer to when they lost touch, the whole situation may have taken a bit more of an intense toll. On the other hand, she might actually be better at dealing with shit now.

“I think so,” she said.

Her Mom simply nodded in understanding. “How about you keep an ear out for anymore trick or treaters and I’ll make us a total comfort dinner?”

Beca finally nodded after a pause, “Sure.”

* * *

Kathy had made a veritable feast of loaded burgers - buns and all - with fries and a comparatively pitiful salad on the side. To some surprise to herself, Beca manages to eat the majority of the food, leaving a small amount of fries that were swiftly pinched by her Mom.

They had settled into watching some horror movie — Beca wasn’t sure which one, but it was kind of cringey and she was getting bored anyway — when about 30 minutes in her phone pinged.

_ **Chloe (21:08):**   
_ _so I got some stuff from my Mom’s!_

**_Chloe (21:08):_ **   
_recognise anything?_

_ **Chloe (21:09):**   
_ _Image Attached_

Beca tapped on the photo, seeing in full view a half empty box of assorted items with a number of them spread neatly on the carpeted floor.

There were several things Beca recognised and it drew a sigh from her. Her lips cocked into a small smirk on reaction.

_ **Beca (21:11):**   
_ _I do, all of which are totally embarrassing_

_ **Chloe (21:11):**   
_ _beca mitchell getting embarrassed?? well now you’re obligated to tell me!_

Beca considered the memories held within the photo. Her immediate reaction was to brush it off like it was nothing, but her gut insisted on honesty, since the whole... feigning indifference and avoiding the truth thing had done her _ so _ well recently. She felt guilty and she owed it to Chloe after earlier this evening.

Pushing up from the couch, Beca texted as she walked into the kitchen.

_ **Beca (21:15):**   
_ _So... the CDs? Totally mine. I made those for you you summer before senior year up to before we split for college. I can guarantee the song choices are awful, so don’t bother listening to those._

_ **Chloe (21:16):**   
_ _you made me mix tapes???! hello! romantic much! of course I’m going to listen to them!_

_ **Beca (21:16):**   
_ _Please don’t._

_ **Chloe (21:17):**   
_ _can’t make any promises_

Beca rolled her eyes and, alongside a smile, shook her head as though Chloe was watching her movements.

_ **Beca (21:18):**   
_ _Anyway - the notebook I’m pretty sure was yours for your Math notes. The books I don’t recognize. Hope that helps?_

_ **Chloe (21:19):**   
_ _totes, thank u_

_ **Chloe (21:19):**   
_ _I have like..... way more than this one box though! I basically raided my mom’s attic for stuff and I haven’t had time to go through any of it._

_ **Chloe (21:20):**   
_ _i’m kinda scared to tbh_

_ **Beca (21:21):**   
_ _How come?_

_ **Chloe (21:22):**   
_ _not only are there definitely gonna be some totally gross spiders in here!! but looking at this stuff is always kind of scary._

_  
_ _**Chloe (21:22):**  
__the memory recall is always a total gamble and what if it all is just useless? and nothing happens? I don’t want it to be a waste :(_

_ **Beca (21:23):**   
_ _You owe it to yourself to try though, right_

_ **Chloe (21:23):**   
_ _you’re right_

_ **Beca (21:25):**   
_ _Are you gonna be okay? Like doing it, I mean_

_ **Chloe (21:25):**   
_ _doing it? ;)_

_ **Beca (21:25):**   
_ _Chlo_

_ **Chloe (21:25):**   
_ _sure I will!_

_ **Chloe (21:26):**   
_ _usually I just get a headache if it’s too much_

_ **Chloe (21:26):**   
_ _but it helps a lot when someone is helping me_

Beca stood against the counter, bottom lip caught between her teeth in thought as she stared at her phone. She typed out half a sentence but swiftly deleted it. She repeated her actions once more and could just imagine Chloe’s phone, the ellipses bubble popping up before disappearing, reappearing and vanishing again. Her thumbs soon moved once more across the screen.

_ ** Beca (21:29):**   
_ _If you need any help just let me know :)_

There was no response for all of half a second.

_ **Chloe (21:29):**   
_ _I need help!_

_ **Beca (21:29):**   
_ _Now?_

_ **Chloe (21:29):**   
_ _unless you’re busy?_

_ **Beca (21:30):**   
_ _I’m breezy. Mom’s watching some horror movie anyway and it’s super cringey_

_ **Chloe (21:30):**   
_ _I can’t promise there isn’t a totally cheesy horror movie playing in the background right now......_

_ **Chloe (21:31):**   
_ _but I have wine if that helps?_

_ **Beca (21:31):**   
_ _Red?_

** _Chloe (21:31):_ **   
_duh_   
_   
**Beca (21:32):**   
_ _send me your address _


	19. xix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of Saturday I have finally moved out, and now being that I am currently unemployed it stands that I have a fair amount of free time. I'll try and slip in as much writing as and when I can, but thank you all for being so patient; it really is appreciated.  
Stay safe and stay well everyone!

Chloe’s apartment was in a new complex that Beca was totally unfamiliar with. It took her ten minutes longer than it probably should have to find the right building for Chloe, but she did eventually and the redhead buzzed her in eagerly. 

Chloe was already standing with the door open when Beca made her way out the elevator. Chloe had changed out of her Halloween costume and into a far more comfortable pair of shorts and plain, long-sleeved top. It hugged her figure well and Beca averted her eyes quickly, worried they might linger too long. It felt impolite to look.

“Hey!” Chloe beamed.

Beca gave a small, awkward wave from her hip and was tucked into a small hug before being ushered inside by Chloe. Immediately she removed her jacket and boots, and pressed against the floor with a totally new, totally clean pair of socks that weren’t damp.

Chloe spotted them and smiled, closing the door behind her before heading into the main room of the apartment.

Beca looked around as she entered, “Your place is really nice. Homely.”

“It’s mostly Bree. She keeps it clean. It’d probably be super messy if it was just me - I’d forget to tidy. Take a seat!” Chloe replied, gesturing to the couch to one side as she entered the kitchen and readied two glasses of wine.

Having the opportunity to take in her surroundings, Beca viewed the decor as she sat awkwardly on the couch, knees pressed together and hands clasped in her lap. The colour scheme around the room was mostly pastel, which surprised Beca very little. A number of paintings and photos hung along the walls or on shelves alongside books. Most of the furniture was mismatched in a way that blended together well and Beca guessed most of it had been thrifted and upcycled, including the small coffee table that looked after a small number of books. There were also a small number of boxes in the corner. 

“Was your roommate that blond one with you earlier?” she asked.

The television set was playing a period movie, one that Beca could tell by the quiet music falling from it that it was supposed to be suspenseful and frightening.

”Yeah, that was Aubrey,” Chloe returned with two glasses of wine, handing one to Beca before taking a seat on the other end of the couch, feet tucked beneath her.

Beca nodded and quickly took a sip of wine.

“The kids did super well with their candy hordes this year; my brother is going to have a nightmare trying to keep them under control for a while. Did you get many trick or treaters?”

“We went through a few bags for sure,” Beca nodded before pausing and looking into her glass, “And I’m really sorry, about my Mom. She’s totally up to speed now, so it won’t happen again.”

“Beca... I know you are. It’s okay.”

The smaller woman gave a short, tight-lipped smile in response and Chloe scooted closer, pressing a hand to Beca’s arm. The pressure shot through her with warmth that lingered when it left.

“Honestly. It’s totally cool.”

She simply nodded in response.

“Bree is out at a party so we have the place to ourselves and she probably won’t be back until morning. Or I’m hoping so, at least; I’m trying to get her to hook up with one of our friends who is _ totes _ into her.”

“You mean Aubrey is capable of hanging loose? From what you’ve told me, she seems pretty... uptight.”

“Aubrey is totally cool. She’s just... conscious of certain expectations people have of her, and can be occasionally outspoken. Her Dad is a hardcore army guy so she’s been put through her fair amount of drills, but once she has a couple of drinks she’s _ super _ loose.”

Beca nodded again, but this time with a rise of her brows that begged _ I’ll believe it when I see it _ from her expression.

“Trust me; she can be a total party animal,” Chloe chuckled.

She stood and placed her glass on the coffee table opposite before heading to the boxes in the corner, “So this, is like, everything my Mom could find. I think most of it is clothes, which we can recycle, but there should be some stuff worth looking through.”

“Did you not look through it before?” Beca’s eyes followed her and it was the first time she could take in the entirety of Chloe’s appearance; her red hair that curled loosely from a low ponytail, the long sleeves of her top slowly rising their way up her arms, and the slender, pale legs that were only partially covered.

But then she spotted it; pinker than the rest of her skin, dotted and long, rising from her ankle up the side of her calf. Beca spotted another scar, just to the side of the first but this time smaller and paler. And it dawned on her that this was the first time since they’d met that she’d seen the bare skin of Chloe’s legs.

The longer Beca looked, small abrasions dotted across cool skin became more vivid, more noticeable. They were never there before. The only marks on Chloe’s skin that she could remember from before were—...

Blinking hard, Beca tried to focus on what was being said.

“I mean, not really? My recovery was kind of difficult, then I was busy going back to college and trying to get over my fear of driving again. I didn’t really get much chance and it didn’t feel... necessary until now.” Tucking her legs beneath her, Chloe sat, one arm stuffed deep into a cardboard box as she pulled out various items that were hidden inside.

Beca took another long drink from her wine before setting the glass down on the table and shifting closer, itching to gain a better look at what was being put on display.

There were a number of things Beca recognized and she pointed them out; a small number of school notebooks, odd trinkets that had a brief history, books and DVDs that had been stashed away. Chloe immediately took the most interest in the school books, flicking through to see if her handwriting had improved - or changed - or if there were any notes or drawings from Beca.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise when I tell you it was actually _ you _that was drawing on my books, not the other way around.”

“Well, unless you have any physical evidence then I can’t help but deny those allegations, Beca,” Chloe said with a wiggle of her shoulders and a smile before returning to the boxes. They were down one already.

“Oh, this is that stuff I sent you in the picture,” Chloe said, pulling the next box across the carpet and setting it next to Beca’s legs, “tell me more about those mix CDs.”

Chloe smiled up at Beca, her side leaning against the couch with an arm propped against the cushioned top. Her chin rested in the palm of her hand and her smile was light and playful.

Beca just shrugged, “Not much to say.”

“Oh come _ on _ , Beca. You can’t tell me you don’t remember anything about these CDs? I mean, do you remember what’s even on them? And why is there one missing? You were just _ so _ busy senior year that you had nothing else to do?”

“Dude, I had shit to do, okay? I was busy, mostly hanging out with a total weirdo who demanded the majority of my time but I was working on... stuff. Music.”

Chloe squinted at the brunette above her, unbelieving that Beca could remember so little. “You’re being, like, super helpful right now.”

The woman scoffed in response, “Oh, am I? There was clearly _ no _sarcasm in that whatsoever. Well, you seem to be handling this well enough, so I can totally leave.”

Beca made to stand up from the couch and Chloe laughed a genuinely, hearty giggle as she reached for Beca’s wrist and held it firm, tugging for her to sit back down. “No, Becs! I’m totally kidding! Come on,” Chloe said, quickly looking up at the brunette with her best puppy dog eyes - Beca was familiar with those - before continuing, “Sit back down? Please?”

The look on Chloe’s face made pause for Beca. She felt the familiarity of it warm her neck and the back of her shoulders and couldn’t help but let a smirk creep across her lips. “Fine,” she said, allowing Chloe’s grip to pull her back down, decidedly closer to her before she had moved, “but any more sarcasm and I’m leaving. The sarcasm is _ my _ thing.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Chloe asked, peering at Beca with a coy smile. And the redhead held her gaze, the smile fading in slow motion before she turned back to the box next to her. She pulled out the small disc cases and held them up in front of her face, showing them to Beca. “Come on.”

Beca swallowed a mouthful of wine, “Chloe.”

“If you don’t tell me then I’m just going to have to play them,” Chloe replied, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“You can’t tell me you actually still own a CD player...”

“I totally could tell you that.”

“But I wouldn’t believe you.”

Chloe pulled her hands down and landed them in her lap, pouting as her face became visible again. She let out a huff of disappointment as dramatically as she could, eyes darting off as she stared into some middle distance that Beca couldn’t track.

With a roll of her eyes and a quick decision that she had probably had enough wine by now to make it through this, Beca relented with a sigh, “The first one I did the spring of junior year...”

Chloe turned back dramatically and squealed, bouncing to her knees to embrace Beca in a tight hug as the brunette spoke before pulling away and resting a hand on Beca’s knee as she listened.

“You literally begged me for weeks after I offhandedly mentioned I could make CDs; that was a dumb mistake. You were very particular about what you wanted on it so it was basically all you, I just burnt the tracks to the disc. Number two and three I made summer after junior year because you’d played the first one to death and I wanted to surprise you and say thank you for being such a good friend at school,” Beca quickly forced another mouthful of wine down, finishing the glass, “And then four and five were just during senior year. I think you liked number four the best, which I guess explains why it’s missing.”

She could feel Chloe’s eyes staring at her. She wasn’t sure if they’d left her at all while she was talking, but Beca stared into the empty glass, swirling the final slither of wine that refused to leave.

A hand crept into view and grasped the top of her wine glass, pulling it softly from her grip. Beca released it, watching as Chloe made her way back to the kitchen, both glasses empty, before filling them back up. “I’m still going to have to listen to them,” she called from the other side of the apartment, "My laptop _ absolutely _ has a disc drive."

“Well, then... prepare to hear extremely dated music. There will almost definitely be some awful choices in there.”

“Oh, Bec, come on - I doubt that. But I’ll save those for a rainy day to keep you from the embarrassment of having to listen to them again.”

“So considerate.”

“Or I might just listen to them after another drink.”

“See, I knew it was too good to be true.”

Chloe laughed again as she wandered back in with two full glasses, handing one back to Beca before sitting back down on the carpet. She sipped hers and placed it back on the coffee table, reaching over and pulling a book from the small pile Beca spotted earlier, and flipped to a fresh page to scribble something down.

“So the last two were from senior year?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Beca clarified, taking a sip of fresh wine.

“Cool,” Chloe nodded, adding to her notes with an understanding of finality as she cleared the sentence.

“What’re you—?”

“Oh, this? It helps me remember things.”

“That’s cool.”

“I have, like, a whole planner that I use; routines are really great for me and note-taking helps to really cement stuff in my memory, since it’s still a little sketchy on the short term stuff.”

Beca looked over, a thick sense of guilt pulling at her chest.

“It’s actually really good therapy, too. I use, like, stickers and tape and stuff to plan my weeks and it’s so relaxing,” a look of gentle peace on Chloe‘s face before she looked up from her paper and stopped, scratching at her temple with a pause and drop of expression. 

The moment she spoke, her tone had changed, “Becs... you need to stop feeling so bad for me. I can see it on your face. I’m familiar with the look and I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that kind of sympathy.”

“It’s not— it’s not that. I...” Beca struggled to find the right words, considering how she was going to continue the train of thought. She peered into her glass again, a vessel of excuses to avoid looking at the woman next to her. But she owed Chloe the honesty. She had always tried to be honest with her when they were younger, but she was better at it now. Sort of.

“I always thought you had just... stopped talking to me, when we fell out of touch, and I thought some really _ awful _ things about you. I never knew about the accident, so I just thought, for some reason that I never knew that you hated me. And I just... kind of hate myself for thinking what I did about you, since I know now that’s not how it was. And honestly I’m kind of ashamed I even thought that it was possible to truly feel like that about someone I felt so-...” Beca halted herself, aware suddenly of her rambling and constant speech.

A sigh fell from the redhead and her own gaze was cast to the ground, free ringlets of red falling down the side of her face. Trapping the pen on her page as she pressed the book closed, Chloe left it on the table and pulled herself into the slither of space between Beca and the arm of the couch. Beca shifted away, but warm hands made a grasp for her forearm to hold her in place and lingered there as Chloe tucked her feet near Beca’s side, knees pressed up to her chest.

Beca watched her, eyes shifting in focus as she sat down, the sudden closeness of Chloe nostalgically overwhelming, scared to move and sitting still.

“When my Mom first took me home after the accident, I had to sleep on the first floor since I couldn’t use the stairs. It was frustrating because the house felt _ so _familiar but there was this whole other level that I just couldn’t understand because I couldn’t see it. Most things came back to me fairly quickly; there were pictures around the house, we talked as a family, but the one thing that I just couldn’t recall? My Dad.”

“Chloe—”

She help up a hand, “I knew what he looked like but for the longest time I just couldn’t... place him. I couldn’t remember what he wore, the sound of his voice, how it felt when he used to pick me up after school on a Friday. I would beat myself up about it because I knew that if I could just... go upstairs and go into their room I just might have a chance to remember how I got into their bed at night when I had a bad dream, that I might finally understand. And my Mom had enough to deal with, looking after me, so I never troubled her with it. But the moment I could get into their room and I could finally remember what he was like, the feeling of guilt and total shame I was overcome with was choking. Because how could I possibly forget a man like that? A man so important,” Chloe inhaled shakily, slipping a hand into Beca’s and squeezing it firmly with an exhale.

“So I get it. I understand,” she said sincerely, eyes damp and earnest and impossibly blue as Beca looked into them, “And it’s okay, Beca, to feel like that. But you don’t need the guilt because what happened is not your fault. What’s done is done and it can’t be changed, but we _ can _ change how we continue forward.”

Beca simply nodded, wordless in her response. There was a tingling feeling against the inside of her wrist, but she couldn't stop to look before Chloe started talking again.

“And no more feeling bad! You’re my friend and I feel so super comfortable with you, so I don’t want you hanging out with me out of pity.”

“Dude, it’s not like that—”

“Yeah, I should hope not,” Chloe said, releasing the grip on Beca’s hand and swatting at her bicep, “but you can totally make it up to me by being my super awesome, music producer friend that I’ve known for years. Since _ high school _.”

Beca smiled and looked away shyly, “It’s actually... super nice to be hanging out with you again.”

“Yeah?” 

She could hear the smile in Chloe’s response. 

“Yeah. I mean, work has been crazy and everything has just been so... hectic for so long, it’s nice to feel like I have some kind of normalcy in my life again.”

“God, and I thought I was totally boring you with my super basic life.”

“No, dude, no way. Spending time with you--... Hearing about regular stuff like... just buying groceries and staying in to do housework, rather than eating out or takeaways every day and partying every night? It’s so refreshing.”

“That’s good,” Chloe smiled as she reached for her wine, pausing just before she took a sip and deftly changed the topic, “We still have some boxes left so get ready to reminisce for me.”

* * *

They spent the next hour rifling through the rest of the boxes Chloe had, quickly sorting them into two piles: one of things to keep and the other of things to donate or recycle. It had been therapeutic for the both of them; Chloe had the opportunity to ask questions, recalling small bits of information with slight prompting, while Beca was allowed to open herself to those age-old experiences again and feel as though she was safely capable of doing so. It was warmth that came to Beca first, catching herself in a gentle smile as she listened to the smoothness of Chloe’s voice before she noticed just how content she felt in the moment.

But she quickly bristled at it, uncomfortable with the unfamiliarity despite the warm hum of nostalgic comfort that curled its way around her. The memories no longer held the same whiplash she experienced when she first saw Chloe back in the car park, but the tension was still there, pulling at her chest with anxiety. And as she breathed, eyes shut while resting in the corner of the couch, the warmth of the alcohol in her belly soaked the nervousness in a thick treacle that subdued it.

But god, she was tired.

Movement at her side jostled her. Beca peered over, heavy eyelids pulling open and spotted a bright screen on the coffee table in front of her. A weight pressed against her side and she spotted a cloud of fiery red with a grin pressed between lips that were trying the damned best to keep in it.

Beca heard the familiar noise of the laptop volume being increased and her eyes bulged, "_ No. _"

Chloe stifled a laugh as she hit the spacebar, waiting for the music to begin blasting through her laptop speakers.

The plucky guitar chords hit her ears first, the distinct country twang of the guitar drawing a groan and a roll of her eyes.

"No _ way _," she heard Chloe say.

Pressing her lips together and closing her eyes, Beca nodded, "Yep."

"Oh my god."

"Yep."

"Is this for real?"

"Oh yeah," Beca started, nodding and turning to look at Chloe beside her, "it's happening."

"_We were both young when I first saw you, _

_ I close my eyes, and the flashback starts; _

_ I'm standing there, _

_ On a balcony in summer air." _

Beca cringed visibly at the lyrics, but kept her eyes on Chloe's reaction - her gaze watched as crystal blue eyes darted across the room, searching for the words to come next, but her mind was pressing the subtle knowledge of just how close they were to the forefront of her mind.

Until Chloe started singing. And the crystal sound pulled her focus like a needle with thread; tight and attentive.

_ "See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns, _

_ See you make your way through the crowd _

_ And say, 'Hello'" _

Beca let out a laugh of disbelief.

_ "_ _Little did I know..." _

"Oh, so you can remember the lyrics to this awful song but you forgot about your best frien--"

Chloe cut her off before she could finish, pressing her hand to Beca's shoulder and singing dramatically.

"_That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles, _

_ And my daddy said, 'Stay away from Juliet.' _

_ And I was crying on the staircase, _

_ Begging you, 'Please don't go,' _"

"Okay, no, we're skipping thi-"

Chloe spun her body to face Beca, grabbing both hands away from the laptop and into her own before continuing, "And I said, 'Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone!'"

"Chloe."

"I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run."

"_Chlo_ ," Beca couldn't help the smile on her face.

"You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess; it's a love story, baby just say 'yes'," Chloe finished, eyebrows raised and awaiting Beca's answer. But the pause between the chorus and the next verse seemed to drag into a thick moment of silence where Beca could focus little more on the feeling of Chloe's warm hands on her own, both pulled against the woman's chest as the breath forced it to rise and fall.

And it was a small mission in itself to find the willpower to pull her own hand free and quickly click for the next song, but it was one that was fueled by panic rather than desire. She spotted something flash in Chloe's eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came.

The next song that started was just as bad - a perky Kelly Clarkson song - but it was swiftly quietened by Chloe, decreasing the volume of noise that poured from the laptop speakers, "Okay, I had pretty good taste in music."

"I’m glad you think you do."

"Oh, come on, Becs - you can't tell me this hasn't been two iconic songs in a _ row _. That's some serious high school soundtrack material right there," Chloe gestured wildly towards the laptop.

Beca could only laugh and smile. Her head was thick and heavy and the thinking... the thinking made it heavier. She shook her head to clear it, "This is definitely your CD."

"Yeah, and they're all totally banging tunes." Chloe said, looking very pleased with herself, tapping the volume again so it lowered to nothing but a small hum in the background.

Beca scoffed laughter again.

"Thank you for coming over, though. I really appreciate it. This has... really helped," Chloe paused, the tone between them settling to a calm as she leaned back against the couch to join Beca, head resting against the cushions as she cast her gaze over, "Music helps."

The brunette turned her head to face Chloe, mimicking her posture, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's just... there's something about it," Chloe shuffled her body towards Beca, tucking in closer as though she were about to whisper a secret, "The rhythm, the beat. The way the voice sounds when they hit those keys so perfectly with the music. I definitely attribute particular songs with particular people; my Mom, for example is... Make You Feel My Love by Adele. Not just the lyrics but the whole tone of the song is just... It just feels safe and _ warm _... It helps trigger a lot of memories for me. Music really helps."

Beca focused on the closeness of Chloe intently; the softness of her skin, the way her cheeks were flushed and how delicate her lips were when she spoke. "Your singing is still really good."

The comment made the redhead smile and the glow from her eyes alone warmed Beca's core. "Really?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Yeah. _Totes_."

"Do you sing?"

Beca broke eye contact as she looked down and smiled at her hands as fingers played with each other absently, "No."

"A music producer who doesn't sing? I don't believe it," Chloe said defiantly, looking to the ceiling and shaking her head before lolling it back towards the brunette.

Beca could feel blue eyes on her, watching her movements as the quietness of their conversation surrounded them. The way Beca felt now... she had felt only very few times before. But she pressed the sensation in her stomach deeper and tried to open herself to the gentle waves of alcohol-filled consciousness, the way she could feel the world ebb back and forth despite her sitting still.

Delicate fingers reached for her own and Beca's movements froze. Pale fingers tugged gently at her hand and Beca allowed the movement, her palm being turned face up and wrist being exposed with a swipe of a warm thumb across her tattoo. It rested in Chloe's delicate grasp as she inspected it, quietly and closely.

"I think you do sing."

"Calling me a liar?" she deflected with a gentle laugh.

But it didn't deter Chloe's gentle tone, "No."

Near silence again; the only noise was the quiet din from Chloe’s laptop.

A few round movements of her index finger across Beca's wrist was enough to hypnotize her into submission, "Only when I have to."

"Not when you _ want _ to?"

Beca paused and focused on Chloe's delicate fingers trace the lines of her headphones back and forth, back and forth... Her eyes pressed closed as her head grew heavy against the cushion of the couch.

"Not anymore," she offered, unable to look at Chloe and witness her reaction.

The tingling on her wrist continued but she heard movement next to her. A warmth pressed so firmly beside her that she dared not open her eyes to witness; the familiar warm energy and presence of Chloe - the one she had been so used to and desired so heavily - looming so close to her that she could feel the rise and fall of the redhead’s chest like the rhythm of a slow love song.

With Chloe tucked into her side she was frozen solid, the only sensation the tracing against the space on her wrist where her tattoo rested. And Chloe still smelled the same as she used to, like a bizarrely wonderful mixture of autumn and florals, warm and fresh.

And each breath Beca took dragged her deeper into relaxation.

_ Three _.

She felt her arm be lifted higher, something warm against her wrist but unable to tell what it was.

Another; _ four _.

Her legs felt so heavy. Her head was like lead.

_ Five. _

Now there was a pressure at her wrist. Something light and delicate and soft.

She’ll open her eyes in just a minute. Just a minute.

In just a minute.

Beca lazily flexed her palm, leaving it open, welcome - delicate and so calm. Her brain was moving too slowly to think coherently.

A softness pressed against it, and at her final inhale - deep and warm on _ six - _it pulled her deeper into sleep where there was no chance to recover, left alone with a distant feeling of warmth at her fingertips; identical in the way she had always thought of Chloe.


	20. xx

The night had been eventful to say the least. It had been a whirlwind of emotions for Chloe and all-in-all had been a little exhausting. It was a drain she hadn’t felt in a while, but she knew the ache as the one that came with the exhaustion of mental recall and all the emotions that came with it.

Beca had fallen asleep on her couch. The brunette’s hand was soft and gentle against her cheek and lips as Chloe watched the calm rise and fall of the woman’s chest. Her skin tingled and her head spun at the sensation of Beca’s presence beneath her fingers. 

Everything about Beca had seemed so... untouchable; an elite LA producer (she was essentially a celebrity), a five foot-nothing guarded hottie, and whole tangle of questions that she didn’t know how to ask.

And yet there was something in her, some gut instinct or psychological muscle memory that let Chloe feel as though she had permission, that she was one of the few allowed to slip between the cracks in the wall, glimpsing sight of Beca’s essence.

But she wasn’t quite sure why she felt that way.

The palm against her cheek was warm and comfortable and perfect and she didn’t want to let go. Her stomach lurched at the thought — that or the alcohol was hitting her too heavily — and she indulged by keeping her cheek pressed against soft skin. Just a few seconds passed before she finally relented, pulling her cheek away and turning to place another small, gentle kiss on the inside of the girl’s palm.

Resting Beca’s arm back against her chest, Chloe lazily made the small movement to untuck Beca’s legs and lay them flat along the couch, before leaning to make a grab for the comforter off the back of the couch and pulling it over her.

The redhead closed her laptop and made a small effort to tidy away the empty wine glasses before returning to the coffee table with a sizable glass of water and two aspirin, setting it on the surface closest to Beca with a small clink.

The brunette roused slightly at the noise.

“Chlo...?” she muttered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she whispered back, “There’s some water and painkillers on the side for you when you wake up.”

Beca hummed and pulled the blanket to her chin, “Good... you’re so good... always looking after me.”

“Oh, so this isn’t the first time?”

“Yes... No. I don’t... You're too... Shush.”

Chloe let out a small chuckle, “Goodnight, Becs.”

“Mmmnight, Chlo.”

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning. Or if I do,” Chloe finished with a smile and rise of her brows before heading to her own room, leaving the small lamp on so not to shroud Beca in total darkness.

After brushing her teeth and lazily washing off any lasting makeup, Chloe crawled into the too-big bed that was pressed against the wall. A small number of cushions were spread across the covers and Chloe made a grab for one, hugging it against her chest as she stared at the ceiling and really, for the first time in a while, allowed her mind to wander.

Aubrey always told her it was pointless to daydream so often, but there was a certain safety in the knowledge that only _she_ knew what she was thinking, and no one else.

Because a particular downside of recovering from memory loss was not only was the process long and slow, but people tended to dictate just _how_ you recovered; what you did to remember, what came first and what things should be avoided. People generally only wanted to focus on the good and the positive, and while Chloe tends to consider herself a fairly upbeat person (_okay_, almost always upbeat and bubbly), others tended to forget that without the bad, nobody would know what happiness was.

But on her own, with her own mind, Chloe decided what happened. She was finally in control; what was being thought of, how long for and as intensely as she wanted. It was something that she had struggled to be allowed for so long after her accident, playing chase to the version of herself _Before_ when, realistically, she never could be caught up. 

But in the quiet nights when she was on her own, it was the way she had indulged and built herself back up.

So right now? Her mind was _full_ of Beca.

It was all encompassing, every detail - from her smile, her eyes, down to the clothes she wore - was pressed against the edges of her consciousness. It had been creeping in on her slowly, quiet and unnoticed until tonight, alcohol dissolving the ground beneath the walls of her consciousness so the thoughts could glide in, silently and suddenly.

And when it came to Beca there were a number of things Chloe still couldn’t work out. 

First was just how much Beca knew about her dad. The question most pressing on her mind was how she knew of their sacred saying, their mantra. It was not something Chloe was prone to share because of just how personal it was, so the implications of Beca remembering, let alone just knowing about it, were heavy. The thoughts were connected to something rooted deep in her chest, close to heart that made it feel excited and heavy all at once, an oddly healthy panic.

The second had been partially aided by their nostalgia trip tonight; a question of what their high school time together had been like. There had been some school notebooks, filled with scribbles and half conversations when they had been sentenced to silence during study hours, a small number of personal things that Chloe could remember glimpses of - with Beca adding a few suggestions here and there of what they might be and if Chloe was ever seen with them at school - and some other small trinkets including a well-loved soft bear, which _apparently_ stayed exclusively in Chloe’s room, tucked down the side of the bed until it had been discovered by a small, brunette explorer and gained the courage to make an appearance whenever she visited (which was, apparently, not often, and though Chloe had a sneaking suspicion it was to do with the then recent passing of her Dad and her lack of a desire to be in the house, that question would be for another time).

But while there were many more micro-questions she wanted answered, the most pressing and most intriguing for Chloe was knowing exactly what Beca Mitchell was to her.

Though much insistence came from the brunette of the two of them just being good friends, Chloe knew her past self well enough to know she wasn’t friends with just _anyone_. Chloe had an incredible knack of picking out characters, clinging to their wild, interesting lives closely as she admired them. She simply loved to observe another human energy blundering through just as blindly as she was. It made her feel less alone in the world.

She liked most to watch when people shine. There were always minute expressions, so many layers of their souls, all flicking past so quickly like a flip book that she could never stop on just one, their joy and energy letting her peek at the star-filled essence they held inside. Chloe just adored the way people glowed.

And with Beca... there was something in the way she held herself when she simply considered music, like there was a thrum inside of her that Chloe could _feel_ just by standing near her. It radiated from her like warmth and it was... intoxicating. Chloe couldn’t get enough of how it felt and it was constant; even when Beca was just existing near her she could feel it. The way Beca existed was in tune with her own.

Chloe really wanted to hear Beca sing.

In the mean time, however, she would have to cope with working through her credits. Starting tomorrow, Chloe would ensure she heard _every_ song Beca had worked on, and if that involved going through her Wikipedia again then so be it. But Chloe wanted to be closer to Beca. And without pressing any boundaries, this was the only way Chloe could think of, all while her lips tingled, pads of her fingertips grazing them lightly as they passed back and forth.

She rolled to her side, scribbled the reminder to herself on the resident notepad on her bedside table and took a while to consider it.

Her eyelids lulled closed and Chloe breathed a heavy sigh, shuffling onto her back once more as she gripped the cushion close to her chest; the thought of Beca, resting and safe just meters away on her couch was the thing she thought last of before she was pulled to sleep.


	21. xxi

_The light touch from the bridge of her nose toward her forehead pulled her from rest with each gentle stroke. It was bright enough for morning - Beca could tell as much with the gentle light warming her eyelids - but her desire to continue awake was waning. _

_She was comfortable. Her chest was warm with content as the weight of the covers hugged her from above. Scent was the next comfort, Beca’s gentle inhales pulled the fragrance that was warmth in its essence, a soft pumpkin smell that came from hair the same color as the burning sun._

_The stroking was soft and rhythmic, almost perfectly so, but the smell was a press of consciousness that connected two thoughts together._

_"Dude, what're you doing?" she asked suddenly, causing the movements to cease._

_“You were frowning in your sleep, so I wanted to help,” the voice whispered like caramel._

_Beca almost rolled her eyes beneath her eyelids. A lazy smile stretched across her lips, whispering back, “Yeah, well... it's nice... You can continue.”_

_The breathy huff of a short laugh played on her ears and the motions continued, Beca letting herself sink into its rhythm. It was a beat she could keep on repeat, each of her senses focusing like a quiet accompaniment._

_But everything else was silent. And she was comfortable. The ever-present weight of anxiety and uncertainty in her chest had vanished and Beca was too blissfully unaware to even notice._

_“You’re totally drooling all over your pillow right now,” she heard the voice opposite whisper coyly._

_“Oh, you love it. It’s sexy.”_

_“No, no, it’s super gross. Like, so unattractive. Kind of makes me want to leave.”_

_Beca frowned, the place where her hand lay sleepily flexing and finding something to hold. It bunched up fabric and she pulled it closer as an act of defiance, “No, dude, you have to suffer me being unattractive.”_

_The room was silent again and Beca could feel a gaze on her, watching her with every shred of attention and intensity, the quiet being traded for words unsaid. Hair tickled her face as she felt it move and be tucked behind her ear. Her brow creased slightly in response._

_“It's fun waking up with you.”_

_“Well that’s what happens when you literally don’t leave my house.”_

_Silence._

_The air had shifted. Beca could tell despite her eyes being pressed shut. The gravity of it had tilted and her gentle frown returned as the motions against her skin hesitated._

_“...I don’t want to leave.”_

_“Yeah, I got that.”_

_“No, Becs... I mean about college.”_

_She pulled her eyes slowly open in surprise, adjusting to the soft morning light offset but the curtains at the window. Chloe wasn't looking at her, eyes cast her other hand caught between them._

_It had been a subject they hadn't really talked about, the elephant of the room that got bigger with every college application. Beca was kind of hoping they didn't have to talk about it, but now a scratch of worry settled at the back of her neck. “Oh," she muttered._

_“I hate that I won’t get to see you.”_

_A small bout of self-indulgent relief seeped into her bones; of course Chloe, of all people, was worried they wouldn't see each other often enough, as if the thought of ever losing touch was even possible. “Chlo, we can Skype, it’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll get new friends and forget about me anyway,” she jested lightly, hiding the weighted layer of worry that sat beneath it._

_“No I won’t.”_

_“Dude, of course you will. You make friends with everyone, including the crazy homeless people at the park; you’re gonna make new friends—“_

_“But they won’t be you.”_

_"Chloe."_

_Blue eyes finally looked at her own. Beca watched as the irises adjusted, set with a particular worry she hadn't witnessed before. It made the pit of her stomach fall and her chest felt hollow._

_"Promise me we'll still talk?"_

_"Dude, of course I--"_

_"Everyday?"_

_"Like I have any other choice? I couldn't even change my number because my Mom would just give it to you if so much as frowned."_

_Gazing blues flitted up and down so impossibly quickly, Beca thought she imagined it._

_But Chloe was smiling, bottom lip caught between her teeth as the joy behind it reached her eyes, like something was shining from deep inside her._

_"You're right. I'm a delight and your Mom totes knows it."_

_Beca rolled her eyes and turned over defiantly, groaning as she did. As she pulled the covers over with her, it caused an offended gasp from Chloe that made the smirk on her face even more self-satisfying._

_"Oh, now you're being kind of a bitch."_

_"No I'm not, I'm just going back to sleep."_

_"Is that right?"_

_Beca hummed and nodded her head against the pillow._

_"But I'm cooold," she sing-songed._

_Beca shrugged, "Not my problem. I'm asleep."_

_"Ugh, Bec-uhhh, come on!"_

_She felt a jab against her back and steeled herself for any oncoming physical tackles. She knew Chloe wasn't going to go down without a fight._

_"God, even my _best friend_ is prepared to let me suffer. Alone. In the cold."_

_Beca didn't flinch._

_She could feel Chloe's eyes staring into the back of her head. She was waiting for a response that wasn't going to come._

_Another moment of silence, followed by a playful sigh as an idea clearly made itself apparent._

_"You know, I'm reminded of the penguins of Antarctica, left alone in the f-f-freezing sub-zero temperatures..."_

_Beca's brows knitted together in mild confusion, unsure with what train of thought Chloe was riding._

_"Despite their feathery coats, they have one very particular way at keeping warm..."_

_The weight on the bed shifted. Chloe had moved - she felt the covers shift - but Beca made sure to keep her eyes closed. She felt the mattress next to her dip even further._

_"And do you know what that is, Rebecca _Anne_ Mitchell?"_

_Beca's eyes flew open in shock, turning back to face Chloe suddenly, "How the fuck do yo--"_

_But she wasn't prepared for what happened._

_Chloe, now kneeling on the bed with the loose section of the covers bunched in her hands, threw them over the brunette, doubling the weight of the duvet against her. Beca yelped and tried to roll away, but not before Chloe pressed a leg against the other side of her tiny body, trapping the fabric underneath pale knees and pinning her against the bed as she dropped to rest her whole weight against the struggling body beneath, laughing wildly as Beca struggled uselessly._

_"They huddle for warmth!" Chloe squealed into the fabric._

_And Beca was pinned - flat on her back, stuck beneath Chloe. "Dude!" she yelled, breathing heavy from the sudden panic of her struggling._

_Laughing, as she pressed her hands down against the bed, Chloe hovered above the brunette. The closeness of the redhead - clothed only in an over-sized shirt and shorts - was enough to get Beca to still, her struggling futile._

_And her heart pounded against her chest, the adrenaline rushing to break it free from her ribs. She could feel her nostrils flare as she breathed heavy through her nose, every nerve firing as the covers pressed tight against her from all sides._

_Did Chloe really need to be so _close_? With strands of red hair raining from above, a curtain keeping the rest of the world out._

_And why was she looking at her like that? Like her eyes couldn't settle on where to look, fighting from looking somewherethat Beca couldn't locate. But it was somewhere on her face. Or on her head. Or her chest? She couldn't tell, but whatever it was, Chloe's eyes kept flitting back and forth, unsettled. It made her look wild._

_God, did Beca really need to be so observant?_

_Her own breath began to suddenly slow, but it pulled deeper into her chest in a way she didn't understand. And she saw Chloe's gaze slow and linger in places, like the pattern of both things was linked. Their eyesight caught each other and neither of them moved. It felt like Beca couldn't breathe. Or she shouldn't risk to. _

_She could no longer feel the rise and fall of her chest, caught beneath the sheets and beneath Chloe. Instead she felt the gaze of crystal blue eyes lock with her own, witnessing the presence of the soul inside._

_It was a test to see who looked away first. A silent dare from the other to see who would relinquish, who the weakest was._

_And it felt like a frozen moment. Beca was living in it, stretched out in front of her but all at once, in the same instance._

_But it was Chloe that moved away first._

_Though she swore her presence had pulled closer to Beca - she had felt the breath of the redhead across her chin and down her throat, swearing she had witnessed her lean forward - Chloe was already sat up right._

_"Got you!" she said, with a smile as she tucked the lose hair behind her ear. Pulling her leg over Beca, she gracefully left the bed and made her way to the bedroom door. Opening it she poked her head out and called, "We'll be down in a minute, Miss. Mitchell!"_

_She heard a distant voice call from downstairs, the sound crisp like cold water shocking her awake._

_“What?” She husked out, voice dry and rasp with eyebrows knitted together in confusion._

_Chloe returned from the door, pulling a sweater from Beca’s closet, “Your Mom? She said breakfast was ready.”_

_Beca was silent. She hadn’t heard anything that sounded like her Mom, “...she did?”_

_Laughter from the redhead filled the space between them, settling on top of the uncertainty and soothing it. “Yeah,” she said, walking over to the bed once more before yanking the covers clean off the bed, “Now it means you _have_ to get up. Otherwise if I get down there first I’m just going to continue being her new favorite.”_

_The comment pulled a small smile from Beca and she allowed it, welcoming the distraction as she finally rounded off the bed before packing her confusion over what just happened into a box for another day, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. And you probably will be for a long time.”_


	22. xxii

Beca stirred slowly, head thick and heavy as consciousness dragged her awake.

She squinted, taking in her surroundings as a small panic of unfamiliarity set in before being quietly calmed by the sight of piled boxes and a small stack of scruffy notebooks. She was still at Chloe’s.

Beca pressed her eyes shut again and covered them with her hand. She had crashed at Chloe’s. On her _couch_. A situation she _really _did not think she would be repeating again, despite the different location. But it was still the place that Chloe lived and Beca had ended up on her couch, hungover, once again.

Except this time there was nobody nearby. No quiet vibrations of movement or gentle breathing.

She could hear no movement and peeked an eye open to spy no other bodies in the vicinity.

She did spot the glass of water on the coffee table, however, and smiled, before noticing the aspirin alongside it and allowing her smirk to creep even further.

Rolling to her back again, Beca kept her eyes closed as the heaviness in her head started to thrum. She was so not used to drinking wine and her body made that very apparent.

She needed coffee. And a cigarette.

Groaning, she pulled herself from the couch and popped the painkillers, necking the entire glass of water as she did. Pulling at her phone she checked the time; 7:34am.

Standing in the empty room, Beca let the cool air settle around her, frowning as she tried to recall what had happened the night previous. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She just remembered the softness of Chloe’s voice telling her about the Adele song and that was it. She blanked on what happened after.

Tidying after herself, Beca made a beeline for the kitchen, setting the empty glass down as quietly as she could manage before hesitating, deciding what to do next.

She considered her options; stay and awkwardly wait for Chloe to rise, lingering like a teenager waiting for their mom to come pick them up from a party they’d outstayed their welcome at.

Or, Beca thought to herself, just leave.

The idea itself sat like a rock in her stomach; she should at least wait for Chloe (but fuck knows what time she sleeps until, especially after a night with a couple of drinks), and she should make an effort to thank her for letting her stay and not kicking her out when it got too late. Right? Because it’s the polite thing to do. And though she wouldn’t out-rightly admit it, Beca didn’t want to be responsible for making Chloe think she just up and left without saying a word, as if she was nothing but an afterthought - because she didn’t want Chloe to think of her like that.

Searching for a pen and some paper, Beca scribbled a quick note for Chloe. She hesitated on where to place it - unsure of where Chloe’s room was to slide it under the door - and attempting to guess where best to put it so Chloe would see it.

Picking her used glass off the side, she settled on trapping the note underneath it, back on the coffee table where Chloe had left the water for her originally. Beca spent longer than some might have deemed necessary to make sure it was clearly visible for whenever Chloe woke up, moving the glass a quarter-inch each time, sliding the note to a slightly different angle as it neared the edge of the table. _Ohmygod, just stop,_ she thought to herself, taking a step back finally.

Heading to the hallway, Beca collected her jacket, pulling it free from the hook it clung to. With it, a couple of items fell to the ground, clinking against the wooden floor. Cursing under her breath at the noise, Beca tugged on her jacket before leaning to pick up the coat and returning it to its peg. Checking the floor, she spotted a discarded beanie, deep maroon in color and the sight of it pulled Beca's brows together. She squinted in suspicion, picking it up and flipping it over in her grasp. It looked strangely familiar.

Thinking to herself, Beca wandered when she last saw her own hat - the one of similar color and style - as she stood to put it back with the coat. But the last she could remember was Chloe having it; she had tried to give it back to Beca before she left for college, but was told 'it was colder in Oregon' and that it suited Chloe better. Hesitating, she pulled her arm away and looked at the hat in her hands. There was no way it was the same one, right? She chewed at her bottom lip in thought. There was only one sure way to know if it was the same beanie or not.

Tugging at the label on the inside seam, Beca flipped it over. And sure enough, though faded, were the Sharpie'd initials "R.M." in her Mom's handwriting. She let out a soft laugh, smile pulling across her face as she shook her head in disbelief.

Instead of placing it back, Beca pulled on the beanie to cover her Morning After hair, letting strands of brown hair sit beside her face as she slipped on her shoes and slowly opened the front door. Sliding between the door and the frame, the brunette slipped out into the hallway and ever so quietly closed the door. She let out a short breath of relief and took a brief pause, pressing her eyes closed. Coffee next. Smoke first.

"What're you doing?"

The voice from behind her, authoritative and stern, caused her to jump, startling her enough she let out a short "_Fuck_," before turning to see its source. In front of her stood a taller blond, slender in her frame but hard in her expression. _Oh, shit. _"Heeey," she started, long and drawn so she could reclaim some of her composure, "You must be Aubrey. I’m Bec--"

"Are you leaving?"

It was blunt and to the point. The lack of niceties gave Beca cause to hesitate before gesturing back to the front door behind her, "Uh... yeah. Well, I mean, Chloe isn't awake yet and I didn't want to bother her so--"

"So you're just going to walk out on her like a one night stand?"

Beca huffed and set her arms back down by her sides. The interruption was becoming irritating, and mixed with the harsh tone, the question pinched at her shoulders, "Dude. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I actually left a note." Aubrey immediately huffed a laugh in disbelief, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. 

Beca looked her over, noticing a fresh-faced look despite being in a tight fitting dress that was far too nice for an early Saturday morning, coat draped over her arm. She'd clearly been out all night. “What? And like you haven’t?” she added with a pointed gesture at the woman’s outfit, the mention of the early hour unspoken.

Aubrey scowled and pushed past the brunette, Beca stepping to the side in time to miss any contact, the taller woman quickly unlocking the apartment door. But she paused before she pushed it open, "Do us both a favor, _Beca_, and prove you're not a total... asshole. Just be polite enough to stick around and wish her a good morning at the very least, because this is _Chloe_ and if you _really_ know her as well as you’re supposed to, you’d know she would be disappointed to see that you left without saying a word. And I'm tired of her exes or baggage or... friends-with-whatever-benefits screwing her over like that."

Beca balked, "Chloe isn't my ex—”

Aubrey looked her up and down, quiet in her judgement and the look rubbed at Beca's irritation even more. "Then be better," she said simply, pushing the door open and heading inside.

Aubrey pressed the door open while she leaned against it and removed her heels, allowing Beca the time she needed to make her decision.

Beca was dumbfounded at the interaction. Her mouth hung open, cocked in shock. It was like being back at work, interacting with entitled celebrities who expected everything to be handed to them with no expense on their part.

But the brunette stood her ground, not moving from her spot in the outer hallway, “Sorry, but who the hell do you think you are?”

Aubrey straightened her posture at the question, offended, “I’m her best friend, the one who was actually _here_ for her after her accident, the one who looked after her—”

“And you think that gives you the right to talk to me like that?”

“Yes, I do, actually," Aubrey responded quickly, followed by a scoff of disbelief at the audacity of the brunette, "Because I know what she’s been through and how hard she’s worked to get to where she is, and I don’t want someone who thinks they can just waltz in after however many years of no contact and expect everything to be perfe—” A muscle flexed in Aubrey’s throat and she pressed her lips tightly together, a clenched fist quickly resting against her mouth.

Beca recoiled in uncertainty at the sudden interruption. Was Aubrey going to throw up?

A moment passed and the tension in the blond’s shoulders loosened. A deep breath was followed by a short continuation, “I don’t like you, Beca—”

“Clearly.”

“—and if you do anything to hurt Chloe? Anything at all? I’ll come for you.”

“I mean, you could try,” Beca bit back, moving to begin walking backwards down the hallway, "What? You're going to beat me with the stick that's up your ass?"

With a shrug, Beca turned her back to Aubrey and made her way to leave.

A comment from behind her fell on deaf ears, and Beca only responded with a middle finger over her shoulder.

Quickly choosing to take the stairs, Beca made a mental note that Chloe’s roommate was a total hot-head and that any help Aubrey might need in the future, she wasn’t going to get easily. Part of her couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she showed up later with coffee for herself and Chloe.

A pang of spite spread across her chest and Beca allowed herself indulge in it. She was perfectly okay with not getting on with people like Aubrey.

* * *

Beca’s phone buzzed in her jacket pocket as she mulled over what pastries to pick. It seemed, however, that most of the early morning risers had called first dibs and all the best ones were gone. She frowned.

Pulling the cell from her pocket, the frown eased into a soft smile as she read the notification on the screen.

** _Chloe (08:21):  
_ ** _ur getting coffee???! life saver!!!!_

** _Chloe (08:21):  
_** _my knight in shining armor_

** _Beca (08:21):  
_** _PSL right?_

** _Chloe (08:22):  
_** _theyre not on the menu anymore :( since it’s november_

The frown returned and Beca looked up to search the menu. Chloe was right. 

Looking down the queue of people, she checked to see if she recognised any of the baristas on shift from her previous visits, hoping the slow burn of earning the title of a regular was nearly at fruition. She was soon next up in the queue.

“Hey, uh, you still can do the pumpkin spice lattes, right?”

“Not anymore I’m afraid, ma’am.”

Beca cringed internally at the term, continuing almost dejectedly, “So you don’t even have any of the stuff left to make it?”

“You buying for Chloe? Beale?” A voice perked up from behind the noise of the espresso machines. A young man, well built and tanned with short brown hair busied himself with orders.

“Uh, yeah... how did you—“

“You met up with her a little while back, right? I know her from college - she always has the same thing,” wiping his hands on his apron, he made his way over to the counter. Beca caught a better look at his name tag; Charlie. Tapping his finger knuckle against the screen of the register, he pulled up the order, and Beca saw her order flash up on the screen in front of her, followed by “Staff Discount”.

“You have a black americano?”

Well, she guessed she finally earned the title of regular.

Beca nodded dumbly, offering a muttered thanks as Charlie waved a hand, “Don't worry about it.”

Heading to the end of the counter, Beca ducked her head as she waited for her order, pulling out her phone. She opened the thread of texts with her Mom.

** _Beca (08:27):  
_** _Is that little bakery still open on the corner of Downtown? The one with the fucking amazing cinnamon rolls?_

Beca jumped back to her conversation with Chloe. One message was unread.

** _Chloe (08:21):  
_ ** _I’ll just have a regular latte w/ caramel syrup, pls!_

** _Beca (08:27):  
_** _Don’t sweat it, I’m hooking us up. Some dude named Charlie works here and knows you?_

** _Chloe (08:28):  
_ ** _OMG! Ur at our Starbucks! I love Charlie, he’s great! I went to college with him._

** _Beca (08:28):  
_** _Yeah, he mentioned that._

A notification popped up from her Mom, Beca tapped it quickly.

** _Mom (08:28):  
_** _And good morning to you too? At least I’m not distraught with worry any longer, since my only daughter disappeared into the night without so much as a word of when she’d be back. I was like an army wife, sat by the window and looking bleakly into the middle distance, waiting for their husband to return..._

** _Beca (08:29):  
_** _Mom, please._

** _Mom (08:29):  
_** _Not even as much as an apology? :-( It’s such a shame I have no idea what bakery you’re talking about otherwise I could be of so much help..._

** _Mom (08:31):  
_** _#IRespectMyDaughtersBoundariesButIStillWorry #JustBecauseSheIsntUsedToLivingWithAn #OldCrone #DoesntMeanSheCantLetMeKnowSheIsSafe_

** _Mom (08:31):  
_** _#ThatIsAllImAskingFor_

** _Beca (08:32):  
_** _You’re literally the weirdest parent I know._

** _Beca (08:32):  
_** _And I’m sorry, you’re right - I probably should have texted you._

** _Mom (08:33):  
_** _It’s a good job I still love you! And yes the bakery in downtown is still there. Are you planning on getting me some Apology Pastries?_

** _Beca (08:34):  
_** _...yes? _

** _Mom (08:34):  
_** _Oh good, and I was worried your dear old Mom had slipped your mind x_

Hearing her name be called, Beca looked up to see her coffee order had been made. She quickly collected the coffee and made her way to leave the coffee house.

* * *

Chloe was already at the door, holding it open as Beca made her way out of the elevator. She looked incredibly fresh, practically glowing with an enthusiasm that made Beca thankful she'd had some coffee in an effort to catch up with whatever divine energy the redhead possessed so early after a night of alcohol. It had been a long while since she had witnessed that early-morning sprightliness, and the nostalgia bubbled gently in her stomach.

"Honestly, Becs, I can't even tell you how much I appreciate this," Chloe said as she slipped into the apartment, "I'm exhausted."

Pausing as she tried to kick off her shoes with her feet, both hands holding coffee and a paper bag, Beca frowned suspiciously, "Really?"

"Yeah! I usually don't go to bed so late."

A chuckle came from her throat and Beca raised her brows in disbelief, watching as Chloe took the things from her hands, "Sure."

"What?"

"Well, I mean... you literally look like you've come from a morning Skype meeting and already had your second coffee."

A hum came from Chloe as she turned to head into the kitchen, "Tell me I look beautiful in the morning and you can stay over more often."

Attention elsewhere, the sudden release of Beca’s sneaker threw her balance, making her slam her foot to the ground in response. She yelped quietly and steadied herself, posture shooting upright as she took pause and made her way to follow Chloe.

“Is it really cold out?”

“Uh, it’s okay. Just hella windy, I guess,” she said, followed by a quick grimace; she’d been in Cali too long.

Chloe set the coffees down on the counter and leaned against it, slowly unraveling the brown paper bag, “I think it’s cute you wore my hat.”

“I’m sorry; whose?” Beca asked, appearing from the hallway with a cocked brow and small smile.

“That’s my beanie.”

A quick movement had pulled the bag from Chloe’s grasp, Beca now in possession of the warm pastries as protest came from Chloe. 

Setting the bag on the counter, Beca pulled at the seam of the paper and ripped it open, “I think you’ll find it’s actually mine.”

Pulling out a warm cinnamon roll, Beca took a bite before looking over at Chloe with a premature told-you-so smile.

Chloe had her hair tied up in a lose bun, strands loose at the front as they framed her face. She was looking at Beca with suspicion, “No, it was at my Mom’s house.”

“Ok, now _that’s _kind of cute.”

The redhead let out a laugh of confusion, “What? It was on top of my wardrobe in my old room with the rest of the stuff I found...”

Continuing to relish the impending moment along with her pastry, Beca finished her mouthful, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Beca sing-songed smugly, not breaking her gaze on the breakfast in front of her and pulling the hat from her head, handing it over to Chloe, “you can’t tell me those aren’t my initials on the tag, though. In my Mom’s handwriting.”

Frowning, Chloe grabbed the hat from Beca’s grasp and searched the inside for the tag.

The brunette simply returned to her food, pulling a strip of the rolled pastry and taking a big, smiling as she did so, awaiting Chloe’s response.

Beca realized it had been a few moments since Chloe had said anything and looked up with her face full of pride, only to have it drop immediately at the sight before her.

Her free hand pressed to her mouth and the other clutching at her side, it was obvious Chloe was trying desperately hard to stop herself from laughing. She noticed the movement from Beca, looking up to catch her gaze and stifling a laugh as she immediately looked away.

“What?”

“It... it’s nothing,” Chloe said, waving her hand to dismiss Beca’s interest with a smile that pulled across her features.

“Chloe.”

The redhead looked up and laughed at the bewildered look of Beca’s face, opting to look away once more as a chuckle escaped her.

“Seriously, dude, what the fuck is so funny?”

The comment forced Chloe to make eye contact once more and she managed to hold it for a number of seconds before laughing, the look on Beca’s face stoic and unimpressed. “I’m sorry! I just remember that morning at your Mom’s when you were pestering me on how I found out your middle name,” she started, placing the hat on the counter and moving towards the bag of pastries, “and how... your initials, if you kept using Beca, would be B. A. M...”

Beca’s expression furrowed, “No.”

“And your Mom just called you Bamm-Bamm—”

“Chloe.”

“—from the Flintstones,” Chloe finished, breaking for laughter.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Beca watched as Chloe attempted to take a bite of her cinnamon roll before stopping, another bout of laughter getting in the way.

“I actually cannot believe you.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“I bought you the best pastries in town and this is how I get thanked?” Beca asked, the hands that rested on the counter splaying outward in search of an answer, indignant at Chloe’s laughter at her own expense.

Another joyful laugh came from the woman next to her and she reached her hand out, pressing it into Beca’s open palm and squeezing it gently, “No! You’re right, I’m sorry. I mean, it’s funny, but I won’t laugh anymore. Thank you for breakfast, I’m sure it’s delicious.”

The touch pulled sensations all the way up her arm and her heart thudded suddenly. It was familiar, tugging on clouded memories of something similar happening, and the recall made Beca’s brows furrow ever so slightly. 

Her first instinct was to pull away, deny herself the sentiment and close herself off from the connection; a muscle memory that Beca had always associated with Chloe, and it flared every time the soft skin grazed her own. 

But Beca steeled, committing to the sensation of her hand pressing against the cold marble counter, all beneath the redhead’s grasp. She was better; better at physical contact and relaxed touches between friends. It came with growth and acceptance and comfort in her own body, not without growth within herself. And a quiet, hidden part of herself indulged in having the sensation of Chloe’s fingers pressing against her own again. It was nice, and after their talk last night, Beca was trying to not feel so guilty about Chloe.

“_Oh_. Beca,” a voice spoke from behind them. Beca jumped, her hand shifting beneath Chloe’s, but the redhead’s grip had tightened in response - to the sound or her own movement, Beca wasn’t sure. 

_Aubrey_.

“You’re back,” the blond said.

Turning, Beca watched as she approached them in the kitchen, the brunette picking up her coffee cup and speaking before taking a swig, “Morning, Aubrey.”

“Have you two met?” Chloe asked, relinquishing her grasp and Beca feeling somewhat isolated the second it left.

“We had the pleasure of meeting before I left to grab coffee this morning,” Beca said with a somewhat smug hum to her voice, “If I thought you’d still be awake I would have offered to get you something, Aubrey, but you looked kind of rough; I thought you would have gone to bed.”

Scowling, Aubrey eyed Beca as she rounded the kitchen and made an approach for the small coffee machine in the corner - she’d showered, hair slightly damp but pulled back in a tight french braid. A defiant click of a button on the machine was so matter-of-fact that Aubrey simply spun to face her roommate and their visitor, arms crossed flat across her chest and gaze squinting at Beca. “Oh, it’s not a problem,” she started, followed by a sarcastic smile, “I wouldn’t want to have to owe you a favour.”

“Which bakery did you get these from, Becs?” Chloe interjected, clearly trying to change the subject.

Breaking eye contact with Aubrey, Beca caught the tail end of a gaze between Chloe and the blond that was clearly communicating something unsaid. “Its the one on the corner of Downtown - a British couple run it, they’re kind of cute - but it’s called Cake My Day,” Beca replied, mulling over the dwindling pastry in front of her, “my Mom used to get stuff from there all the time.”

"I know the one you mean! I always pass by there but I don't think I've ever been inside."

"Their stuff is really good," Beca watched as Chloe finally took a bite of her breakfast.

Nodding enthusiastically, Chloe hummed before finishing her mouthful, "Well consider me officially converted. Goodbye Starbucks croissants, hello Cake My Day cinnamon rolls."

"Do you smoke, Beca?" Aubrey interjected suddenly.

The whiplash questions were back then, Beca guessed.

Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, Beca stared the blond down before she spoke, the small shock of audacity showing on the brunette's face.

She smirked, "I do--"

"--she used to," Chloe said in unison.

"I, uh..." Looking over at the redhead, Beca paused as their eyes locked, something in Chloe's eyes that she couldn't read. Breaking it to look at Aubrey, Beca cleared the sudden tickle in her throat, quickly refusing to consider why it had appeared, "Occasionally."

She watched as Aubrey, now holding her cup of steaming coffee, looked Beca up and down once again with a clearly disapproving scowl on her face. "I can tell," she said simply. Turning on her heel, Beca watched as she left the kitchen, making her way defiantly back past the living room and towards a door she only assumed was Aubrey's room, shutting it behind her dramatically.

It was quiet for a short moment, Beca attempting to recover from the theatrics of Chloe's roommate, and expelled a puff of laughter in disbelief, "Is she always like that?"

"Like I said before, she's just... looking out for me."

"Yeah, I bet," Beca scoffed.

"People think she can be a bit intense, but it comes from a good place, honestly," Chloe smiled with a reassurance so genuine that Beca was inclined to quietly believe her.

Chloe began to busy herself about the kitchen, tidying away the dishes she'd clearly cleaned while Beca was getting coffee. The brunette rose after a pause, offering to help tidy, which Chloe quickly declined.

"You got coffee and arguably the best pastries in the city; you've done more than enough."

"Yeah, but you still let me collapse on your couch after I totally outstayed my welcome."

Stopping to look at her, Chloe handed her the dish towel, "I don't think you could ever outstay your welcome, Becs, but I guess I can make use of you while you're here."


	23. xxiii

"Okay, you're just being fucking weird now."

"What? I said I was treating you to a coffee. You know I can literally just order through an app now, right? Like, I can just chose which store to order for and do it through my phone."

"Yeah, technology is fucking great. And I'm here. So stop being creepy and just tell me what's going on," Beca demanded, opening the glass door to her usual coffee house haunt. 

The wind blew in from behind her as she stumbled in, making her way for the collection counter with a frown that covered her face entirely.

The temperature had dropped significantly, Thanksgiving and December already rounding the corner in just a few days, and the change in seasons was already apparent. 

Thanksgiving was the next benchmark. Beca had been stewing on her plan of action, trying and failing to figure out what exactly she was going to do next once the holiday had passed and the new year approached.

She’d spent the past few weeks trying to get into a routine of at least _trying_ to make some music, but she’d been mostly failing, apart from the one or two very basic beats she’d made within the last few days. Instead she found most of her free time was full of procrastination; scrolling endlessly through Twitter (trying to chase the news of the label that had dropped and gone public at the beginning of the month - it wasn’t pretty), annoying her Mom, covering the odd piano lesson, and occasionally hanging out with Chloe. 

All while forcing herself and her colleagues to accept the fact she was still occasionally working from home, despite being on leave. Her saving grace was that there was minimal amount of work to do; her emails were getting forwarded to Dax, and the label didn’t have the money to be producing anything right now due to the impending lawsuit they were facing. 

But despite all that, it didn’t stop Beca from poking through a couple of email chains and adding some comments where she thought they were needed. Luckily she wasn’t having to deal with anything directly from Mickey.

Though the next task was to find out exactly what Dax was playing at by forcing her to her nearest Starbucks.

And then she spotted him; the only guy in the entire room wearing a cardigan and a fedora, rising as he ended their call and gestured to the two steaming mugs of coffee on the table in front of him.

Beca couldn’t help but laugh - through both surprise at him actually being in Oregon, and how predictable his attire was. _You can take guy out of LA_, Beca thought.

Making her way over, she greeted him with a light punch to the bicep, “What the fuck are you doing here, dude?”

“Ow! And hello to you too?” He said, rubbing at the spot Beca grazed him, “Geez, I forgot how damn aggressive you were.”

Beca gave him a glare.

“Kidding, obviously. But yes, hi. Hello. I’m here because, well, why not?”

Shimmying into the chair opposite, Beca took a seat, “No, but seriously, why? It really doesn’t look good if you’re actually _here;_ you’re kind of making me dread talking to you.”

“Okay, fine. Since it’s Thanksgiving and the office is on holiday and my parents are kind of over the whole celebration thing, I thought I’d take the opportunity to come visit my good friend, catch up and just chill out.”

“I mean it doesn’t sound like something you’d do...”

“And yet here I am.”

“Just you?”

Dax laughed, “Yeah. No more surprises, I promise.”

Taking his word for it, Beca nodded before thanking him for the coffee and grasping the mug, letting the warmth soak into her palms and fingers.

“I really don’t know how you deal with the weather. I don’t own warm clothes anymore, so I had to buy some more layers at the outlet store before I flew over.”

“Yeah, I have to admit I’m missing the LA sun if I’m honest,” Beca said with near reluctance at the confession, taking a sip of black coffee, “Why didn't you just let me know you were coming?"

"Then it wouldn't have been a surprise, and I know just how much you _love_ those."

Beca shot another squinted glare at him over the rim of her coffee mug, but finished her mouthful and let the comfortable and familiar silence fall between them.

"I have to say, I think the Portland weather's done you some good," Dax spoke as Beca set her mug back onto the table.

"Yeah, that's cos it actually fucking rains here."

Dax nodded, "Ah, yeah. I forgot you needed to be watered regularly."

"You're such an asshole," Beca said, tapping her foot against his sneaker beneath the table. She watched as he let out a laugh. 

"Okay, okay. No more dick comments, I promise."

"Instead you have to tell me why you're actually here."

"God, is it really such a crime to want to see a work colleague?"

"Dax, dude, come on. As much as you want me to believe you've flown nearly a thousand miles _just_ to buy me coffee, it's kind of insulting to think I'd believe that excuse."

He huffed out a laugh as he shook his head and smiled. Pausing to lean back in his seat, Dax allowed himself to accept defeat, raising his hands. "Okay, fine. It was easier for me to come and talk to you face to face anyway, and it demands a bit more formality than just a video call, but... The label's gonna fold before the new year. There's no question about it, I just found out, and there's no way to stop it, so I'm just here to let you know, first of all, that you should probably hand in your notice before it gets too messy. And I suggest you do that sooner rather than later."

He waited on a reaction from Beca, but her face was stoic, processing the information. He gave a few quiet moments before he continued, “A few more artists have left and supported those already suing, adding even more legal action against Mickey. Turns out his wife even filed for divorce but he managed to keep that pretty secret, too. All in all, though, Beca, there’s going to be a few artists without representation and a lot of unhappy people, that’s to say the least.

So, with that in mind... because of our conversation with Emily after the VC with Mickey and Diane, I've floated the idea across a couple of people in the business and they--"

"No, dude. I told you, it's not happening," Beca said, shifting in her seat and running a hand through her hair, "There's too many legalities and I don't have the funds. It won't take off."

"Just... hear me out?" Dax asked, leaning forward, expression gentle.

Starting a new label was a risk. It was something Beca didn't have the energy to even consider right now, let alone actively try and work out the logistics. Plus, she had no experience. Running a business like that was very different to being an assistant, and there was a frustration to why Dax couldn’t understand that.

But she didn’t retaliate, letting her friend have his say.

“Like I said, I’ve floated it by some people and they’re all pretty interested. I’ve even had some offer to invest, Beca. They support you wholeheartedly and they have far more confidence in you than in Mickey—”

“That’s not hard,” Beca grumbled before adding, “but what do they expect? That I, somehow, miraculously get a new business up and running in, what? A month? It’s not going to happen. I have no idea how to manage people, let alone any idea on where to start building something like that from scratch.”

“I mean I know you’re stubborn as hell, but people _have_ offered to help. You don’t have to do this on your own, Mitchell. Hell, _I’ll_ even be your assistant. I’ve already got a list of names who are interested, most of them flat out willing to invest as soon as you say the word.”

Beca frowned in suspicion, “...really?”

Pulling the phone from his pocket and tapping at the screen, Dax handed it to her, “This is a whole thread of e-mails I’ve made with people inside Blueshift, but you can see how many people are outsourcing and CC-ing other artists.”

She swiped through the e-mails, eyes scanning the text and replies that came with them. Much of the response was positive, if a little apprehensive. 

It was odd seeing people singing her praises with an honesty that didn’t need to impress or be kind if she was present, and it even came from those she had barely spoken to or worked with. There were a few notable names included, chipping in with suggestions and even some informal offers of investment or suggestions of legal firms to use. Beca noted an early inclusion from Legacy that seemed to kick-start the whole thing and made a mental note to thank her.

“Can I forward this to myself?” she asked, already hesitating over the button.

As soon as Dax nodded, she hit the icon and typed in her email address.

“There’s a couple more that might be worth you having a look at if you’re interested, so I’ll send those over,” Dax added, taking the phone Beca offered back to him.

She pulled out her own phone and waited for the notification to pop up before opening the thread again and reading with more scrutiny.

“What I’m saying, Beca, is that a lot of people support you. They want to work with _you_, specifically, and that’s even been the case with people coming to Blueshift. They’re happy to wait until you get back up on your feet to make any arrangements because they know it’ll be worth it.”

The pressure of expectation crept over her shoulders and gripped her. She rested her hand over her eyes, pressing them firmly closed, and scoffing at Dax’s comment. With her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, she leaned her temple against her knuckles, “Look, buddy, I... I’ve not been able to make a solid demo in months. I’m barely getting back into the groove of things as it is—”

“Because you’re still working when you should be resting.”

“Yeah, because I’ve needed to—”

“—no, Beca, you haven’t. You were literally told by a doctor to stop working because of your health, both physical and mental. You’re consistently burning yourself out and it’s just not healthy. And I’m actually kind of insulted you think I can’t handle this.”

She peeked back from behind her hand, “Dude, that’s not what I meant.”

He let out a chuckle, “I know it’s not, but you still have to chill out. Your creativity is exhausted, you need to focus on something else and get your muse back, but most importantly you need to not pressure yourself to recover. It’s counter productive.”

“Excuse me, I’ve been trying my very best not to work. I think you’ll find _you’re_ the one that dragged me into that meeting with Mickey and Dianne.”

“Okay, in my defense that was essential. But the emails and job monitoring? They’re not.”

Beca groaned and slid further into her seat, grumbling dejectedly and crossing her arms across her chest like a moody teenager, “I really hate it when you’re right...”

Rolling his eyes, Dax smiled and allowed him to relish in Beca admitting defeat for a few seconds, “And you know I love when you admit it. But seriously, Beca, you need to recover on your own time. This isn’t something you can rush. People are happy to wait because they know it’ll be worth it. Just think about it? And consider it? I’ll send you everything you need so you can read it over, but I don’t want a response before Christmas.”

She considered his suggestion. 

It was a big deal, starting your own label. A lot could go wrong and Beca was extremely hesitant to risk the failure and the potential financial ruin. She would only ever want to produce genuinely good content, but when she couldn’t even make a basic baseline herself then how could she even consider having authority over other’s?

It was a thought that lingered with her while they talked, Beca asking for specifics about the current integrity of the label, and gaining Dax’s view as someone particularly close to what was going on. It was all just a giant fucking mess, and despite feeling somewhat guilty for not being directly involved, Beca was somewhat glad she wasn’t dealing with it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to cope, mentally or emotionally.

After a while, a noise came from behind her.

“Beca, hey!”

Turning her head to the voice behind her, Beca spotted its source; Chloe - adorned in a noticeably patterned coat, contrasting dark sweater with a button up shirt poking out from beneath it, tight pants and fitted boots - approached her with a smile.

Immediately Beca jumped to her feet, pushing her hair back from her face and shared in Chloe’s grin. “Hey,” she countered, allowing the redhead the hug of a greeting, "What're you doing here?"

“We had a half day at the school so I got off early!” Chloe beamed, though her eyes quickly danced to Dax and back again as she assessed Beca was, in fact, talking with someone, “Did I interrupt?”

“Oh! No, not at all, uh—... This is Dax. From the label,” Beca said, gesturing a hand out to her colleague as she introduced him with a slanted smile.

“_Dax_... From work. Right. I remember you mentioning him,” Chloe said with a gentle smile, but the words were tempered with something Beca couldn’t distinguish.

She watched as he stood and offered a hand out to Chloe, “Hey, nice to meet you. You must be a friend of Beca’s.”

“Hi,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, “Yeah, we went to high school together. I’m Chloe.”

She retreated her grasp and readjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, holding onto firmly without letting go.

“That’s awesome. I bet you’ve got some tales; can’t imagine Bec as a teenager. Was she always so moody?”

“Dude,” Beca countered, giving him a playful shove on the arm as his laughed in response. She felt Chloe’s gaze flit between them.

“Are you visiting for Thanksgiving?” Chloe asked, her question direct and gentle.

Dax jumped in before Beca could talk, “Oh, no, my family don’t really do Thanksgivings. I actually flew over to meet with Bec. I needed to go over a couple of work things and wanted to catch up with her. It was kind of a surprise visit, so I’m only here for another day. Turns out there’s a lot to do in Portland. Either that or the concierge at the hotel is incredibly good at their job.”

"You didn't want to stay with Beca?"

"No, no - I didn't want to impose; it would've been hella rude to gatecrash her vacation, especially when she's trying to get _away_ from work. Plus I don't want your Mom getting the wrong idea, right?" he said with a coy smile as he looked over, bumping Beca with his elbow that knocked her center of gravity of slightly.

With her arms still pressed across her chest, gripping at the strap of her bag, Chloe smiled sweetly and said without laughing, "That's funny."

Beca watched as the redhead's smile dropped quicker than normal and she looked across at Dax, her face creasing into a frown as she tried to read what was being unsaid from the lack of Chloe's usually enthusiastic spirit. It was something she'd had to do in the past, studio sessions with Mickey and some particular artists proving increasingly troublesome meant Beca had become well adept at reading a room and the people within it, but doing that with Chloe? That was a forever riddle.

"Must've been pretty important business to come see _Bec_ anyway though, right?" she continued.

The brunette jumped in before Dax had chance to respond, "Oh, it was just, uh-... it was about the same thing you suggested, actually. About starting a label?"

Chloe looked genuinely surprised, but Beca couldn’t pin down why. "Really?"

"Uh, yeah. Just floating a few ideas around; there seems to be some interest," she admitted.

"Well you know I think you'd totally rock it and I have every confidence in you," Chloe said, reaching out a hand to grasp the musician’s upper arm with a squeeze and gentle smile, lingering in a particular way before trailing over her elbow, down the back of her forearm and gliding to graze the tips of her fingers against her own.

“See, Bec, it’s not just me. You’ve got a reputation and you’ve got it for a reason,” Dax commented, gesturing towards Chloe with a free hand as he spoke, before shooting a glance of ‘I told you so’ towards Beca. She felt Chloe’s side press against her own.

He looked back at Chloe and continued, “And I’m sure you know how humble she can be, but there’s more than just _some_ interest; she’s got a number of artists and producers ready to sign up as soon as she’s good to go.”

“You don’t have to talk like I’m not here,” Beca grumbled.

“You’ve got plenty of options and opportunities, is what I’m saying.”

Hearing the voice of one of the baristas, she felt a squeeze at her fingers. Before she could register Chloe still clinging to them, the redhead’s grasp was gone.

“That’s me!” Chloe declared, gesturing back at the counter behind her, “It was lovely meeting you, Dax. Enjoy the rest of your coffee date.”

Before Beca could respond, Chloe had already pivoted and made her way back to collect her coffee. The brunette noticed how the lack of weight against her side felt like a distinct lingering nothingness and frowned. The lasting comment sat in her stomach, heavy with a dread of misunderstanding and a desire to clarify.

* * *

** _Beca (18:36):  
_ ** _Hey! Hope your coffee was good :) What are your plans for the Thanksgiving weekend? Mom is super eager to know if you wanted to come over for drinks and/or dessert and/or dinner. But only if you’re free of course. Let me know!_

Re-reading it, Beca considered how formal it was but hit send anyway. She worried her lip and quickly typed out another message.

** _Beca (18:36):  
_** _Also just to clarify - it wasn’t a coffee date. Strictly work only. Dax and I aren’t dating._

** _Beca (18:37):  
_** _Like at all. He’s like an annoying older brother so would be kind of weird._

** _Beca (18:37):  
_** _Also I’m super gay so it wouldn’t really work out between us you know._

** _Beca (18:37):  
_** _Anyway yeah just let me know about this weekend if you want!_

** _Beca (18:37):  
_** _Obviously no pressure if you can’t. Sorry for all the messages! I’ll shut up now. Just let me know._

Immediately, Beca locked her phone and set it on the counter. Kathy looked up at her from the book she was reading, gentle concern on her face as her daughter flexed her hands before balling them into fists and quickly moving them to grasp each other, fingers interlocked.

"...you okay?"

Pressing her lips together and nodding, Beca half shrugged, "Yeah, yeah. I'm cool. It's just... it's just kind of weird coming out to someone... again. I mean, it's not, not for her... But I also feel weird about it."

"Chloe?"

She almost scoffed in response to her Mom, "Yeah. "

"I don't think you have anything to be worried about, Beca. Though you know full well if she - or anyone, for that matter - says anything even slightly homophobic I'll be ready to swing a mean left hook at them, should they need it."

"Right, in your 'I love my lesbian daughter!' t-shirt," Beca rolled her eyes.

"I have one of those now!"

"Ohmygod, Mom. No, it's... it's okay. I can look after myself, don't worry. I didn't learn to smack a bitch from just anyone."

Shifting in her seat, Kathy smiled and turned the page pointedly, "I should like to think so."

Beca couldn't help but smile. Kathy had always been protective but her willingness to beat anyone who spoke poorly of her was kind of sweet; it was the protective Mom trait she'd recently learned to love.

But _why_ did she feel so weird about clarifying her sexuality to Chloe? She considered if it was the idea of the possibility that Chloe thought she and Dax were dating, and quickly chalked it up to that. She didn't think to linger on why that possibility made her feel weird. Of course Chloe wouldn't remember. It was just a polite thing to do, to clarify.

But Chloe's personality with Dax had thrown her off completely. There had been something _off_ and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. She was polite, almost sickeningly so, but it was without her usual enthusiasm. Maybe it was the way her hand had lingered on her skin until she had to leave, or the way she had pressed closer to her side than she had done before... The nostalgic familiarity of it all. It felt _warm_ and good and comfortable, like listening to a favorite song she hadn't heard in years and just wanted to replay it over and over.

She dragged her hands through her hair and sighed in despair. _No_, she thought to herself, _It's not like that anymore_.

Rising from her seat, Beca grabbed her coffee and went outside to smoke, leaving her phone flat on the counter top.


End file.
